The “Keepers” file

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Tucked into the “K” section of our file cabinet is a manila folder marked “Keepers”. It’s bulging with over 100 notes, cards and letters written by our children. The run-of-the-mill thank you notes or greeting cards that came with just a signature are not included. The Keepers file is reserved for words that are too cute, too powerful, too moving to part with.

Keepers file 2

Some are written in the labored printing of a first grader:

“I like you and your fammlee. I like whiut you duw for me. I like my klos I wier. I like my fowd. I like you.”

Others contain the scrawl of a teenage son: “I tried to write a poem, but it wasn’t going well. So I decided I would just tell you how much you have helped me through the years. I could never repay you, but I’ll still try!”

Then there is the swirly script of a middle school daughter: “Is there any possible way I could sleep in today? Please?!?! I didn’t get to lay down in my bed until exactly 1:25 and 30 seconds! My stomach hurts and I have a headache and I can’t see strait because everything wobbles and my eyes are watering.”

In a store-bought Mother’s Day card, one high school son simply wrote: “Thank you for having me.” And a fifth grade daughter, struggling with creativity, wrote: “Mom and Papa, you bring us love. Two wonderful parents sent from above. We’ll never push, we’ll never shove. We’ll give you are hearts which are happiness full of.”

Another note contains a song entitled “Mom” complete with hand-written score and large piano notes, composed by an eleven year old. Several cards are accompanied by short stories and two by full-blown picture books. One offered a coupon for free babysitting of a little sister.

From a 14 year old son we read: “I have some bad news. An almost full 32 oz bottle of water hit your car trunk and dented it. I will pay.”

Several letters included heart-felt apologies, this one from a nine year old: “I can live without a Barbi, and I can wait a few years to learn the flute. I’m sorry I complain alot. Please forgive me for it. I love you! XOXO.”

As the kids grew older, their letters contained more serious messages. From a new college grad we heard, “I used to be really focused on creating a fun life for myself. I believed in God, but I used to think if I gave everything over to him, my life wouldn’t be as good, like I needed to hang onto some areas or I wouldn’t get what I wanted. The funny part is, letting go is the only way you ever feel peaceful.”

One of our twenty-somethings wrote: “You’ve demonstrated what it means to weather the storm and consistently live by the principles you believe. That’s uncommon today. Thanks for being role models and commitment-keepers. Everyone notices.”

And a thirty-something wrote: “Thanks for all the support you give all your children. It must be hard doing all the prayer work and seeing fruit only some of the time. We may not always say so, but thank you.”

Why do we keep these? It’s because they’re a written record of family love, each one a treasure. And if the house was burning down, it’s the Keepers file I’d grab.

Is there a history buff in the crowd?

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Our realtor called again. “Let’s brainstorm for a way to set your house apart from the others that are for sale. Can you think of anything?”

“Well,” I hesitated, wondering if what I was going to say was positive or negative, “it’s almost 100 years old.”

“Ok then,” she said. “I know a man at the newspaper who might publish a story about that. It’ll be free publicity. Could you write it?”

Many years previously, an elderly gentleman, hunched over with osteoporosis, rang our doorbell and introduced himself as “the little boy who helped build this house.” (He was in his 90s at the time.) I welcomed him inside, and as he paced through the rooms, he dictated the history of our (his) home. I knew I could write a good story for the paper. A shortened version appears below.

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In the year 2009, this house will celebrate its 100th birthday. Built in 1909 by a local farmer, 103 Creek Court had a rural address and fronted on a narrow dirt road that eventually became today’s eight-lane Palatine Road. The farmer owned one square mile of land and operated a dairy farm, milking 100 cows by hand twice a day.

The original farmhouse had a living room, kitchen and bedroom on the main floor with three bedrooms upstairs. These were closed off by a door and left unheated during the winter. With several additions, the house grew to six bedrooms, three baths and five other rooms.

Back in the early 1900’s, the kitchen had a dry sink without even a hand pump for water. Before the first well was dug, the family got its water from the nearby creek, for which today’s Creek Court is named. Food was cooked on a swing-hook in the fireplace.

The main dairy barn sat just across the current driveway. During the 1930’s, economic tragedy struck this farm when the herd shared grass under a fence with a neighbor’s cows, who had hoof and mouth disease.

All of the cows became infected, making their milk unusable, which sealed their fate and that of the farm. The farmer dug a massive hole next to the milking barn, herded them into it and shot them all. Interestingly, when builders began digging for the foundation of our next door neighbor’s house in 1979, they ran into this grave of cow bones and halted excavation until the mystery was solved.

Recent gardeners at 103 Creek Court have dug up square-head nails, iron wagon wheels and the remains of old farming equipment buried in the concrete of the front steps. An antique hay rake, once pulled by a team of horses, was also on the property.

Used as an office by the developer of the current neighborhood, the old farm house was slated for demolition in 1980. However, once the other half-acre lots were sold and built, the developer decided to renovate 103 Creek Court and let it be the house on the rise that had been standing longer than all the others… nearly 100 years.

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The realtor and I hoped to find a buyer interested in history, but only time would tell.

As wise as a spider

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Jack the dog and I take several walks every day, on opposite ends of a leash. This morning, something at ground level flashed and grabbed my attention. It was a large spider web stretched across the angle between a mail box post and the ground, glittering with dew drops.

While Jack sniffed the bushes, I studied the web. The spider was in residence, long legs emerging from a body the size of a pea. Crystal drops were her ready drink, and breakfast was being prepared, as she watched a mosquito struggle in the sticky strands.

As Jack and I resumed walking, an old proverb came to mind: “The spider takes hold with her hands and is in king’s palaces.” (Proverbs 30:28, KJV) This statement comes in a list of “four things that are little upon the earth but are exceedingly wise.” (verse 24)

A spider doesn’t need royal permission to come and go in the palace. Even if the king would rather not have her nearby, she’s there. Despite armed guards watching for intruders, the spider enjoys life with the king. She doesn’t request an audience or wait for permission. Though the throne room doors are bolted, she comes and goes at will.

Why does God label the spider “wise”? Maybe it’s because she’s willing to grapple with large obstacles, like the wall one thousand times bigger than she is. The verse notes that she “takes hold with her hands,” an interesting choice of words for a spider. I think it simply means she decides to do it. She grabs and reaches one tiny bit at a time until she conquers her massive obstacle. God has equipped her perfectly to defy gravity and walk straight to the top.

She also shows wisdom when she’s not intimidated by the king’s rank but does what God has programmed her to do. If she lives in a palace or a shack, it doesn’t matter to her.

The spider demonstrates still more wisdom in constructing her web so it will collect food and drink. If the web gets swept away, she begins to build another, without bemoaning the loss of the first.

I wonder if I could be wise, if I followed the spider’s example:

  1. to tackle giant obstacles one tiny step at a time without quitting;
  2. to believe God will equip me to do what he wants me to do;
  3. to make sure a person’s rank never determines how I act;
  4. to live contentedly with little or much;
  5. to make my home a place where loved ones find food, drink and security;
  6. to move forward, even if tragedy comes, without bemoaning the past.

A little spider seems like nothing more than a footnote in the world’s larger story. Yet she’s significant enough to rank a spot on God’s short list of things that are not just “wise” but “exceedingly wise.”

As Jack and I returned from our walk, we passed our neighborhood spider, resting comfortably while digesting her breakfast. Maybe she was pondering what tasty little something might come by for lunch. And wisely so.