The Weight of a Memory
Most mornings don’t start early around here, and that’s by design.
By mid-morning, the house settles. Mug of coffee in hand, black or cut with a little sugar-free vanilla depending on the weather outside. Zippy is usually curled up somewhere nearby, dead to the world, keeping guard by snoring softly. Christy is across the room, doing what she does best—anchoring the entire operation without making a fuss about it.
You sit there, look at the people in your corner, and the noise of the world just fades out.
Philippians 1:3
“I thank my God every time I remember you.”
Paul didn’t write those words while lounging on a beach. He penned them from a cold, damp Roman cell, shackled between guards, staring down an uncertain trial. Yet when his mind drifted back to the believers in Philippi, bitterness wasn’t the default setting. Gratitude was.
That’s a gut check.
It’s easy to let memory become a ledger of grievances—the deals that went south, the people who flaked, the miles logged on bad roads. Human nature loves keeping score of the scars. But Paul’s reflex was different. He filtered his memories through thanksgiving. Every face. Every partnership. Every shared mile in the trenches.
Take Stock of Your Circle
Look around your life right now.
Who comes to mind when you actually slow down? Who took the call at 2:00 AM? Who sat across from you in a greasy hole-in-the-wall diner and told you the hard truth because they loved you enough not to let you stay stupid?
For me, that ledger starts with Christy. It covers the few loyal brothers who stood flat-footed when things got messy. People who don’t need a polished version of you, just the real one.
We take loyalty for granted until we’re stranded on the shoulder of the road.
Don’t Keep It to Yourself
Remembering someone with gratitude doesn’t do them much good if it stays trapped in your own skull.
Send the text. Pick up the phone. Look your spouse in the eye across the kitchen counter and say it out loud.
Life moves fast, and none of us are getting out of here on our own steam. If God put someone in your foxhole who makes the walk easier, thank Him for them.
Then make sure they know it, too.