What I Miss ...
Discover more from Slow Down, Live Deeper
What I Miss ...
Regardless of whether I offer up the items on my list or find new ways to enjoy them, it feels like a win.
If you enjoy this free weekly newsletter (which will remain free), consider becoming a paid subscriber for $5 per month and also receive a long-form monthly essay that goes even deeper.
I looked out my bedroom window one morning this week and noticed something that’s been there for many years – the remains of a clothesline pole. The vertical pole still stands. The horizontal pole does not.
It reminded me of how much I used to enjoy seeing neighbors using clotheslines. I don’t know why, especially after the blue hornet incident (you guessed it; my mom used to hang my clothes on the line in the backyard, and one day, a hornet climbed inside my jeans, and when I put them on the next day, he stung me on the back of the knee). But something about seeing clothes flapping in the wind equals freshness in my mind. Maybe I’ve seen too many detergent commercials on television.
I hadn’t thought about that in decades. Before long, I opened my field notebook and jotted down thirty more things I miss. Here are a few:
Conversations with Dad. He was one of the best conversationalists I’ve ever encountered.
Joe Tess Fish Place. It was an iconic restaurant in Omaha for many decades. My family made so many memories there, celebrating birthdays and the like. The restaurant didn’t survive the pandemic.
Camping and fishing. Now that my buddy Shawn has passed away, I can’t see myself ever going again. Not so much because I don’t want to but because I don’t know many people who would enjoy either activity.
Receiving letters. Remember the thrill of getting a letter in the mail? The irony is they have been replaced by instant communication but we rarely communicate that way in any real depth. Instead, we use emojis and acronyms to keep things short. So we can communicate instantly but choose to keep it brief. I wish that wasn’t the case.
Midnight. She was my beloved cat of twenty years. We did life together, and I miss that little booger.
Bowling. I bowled in a league for maybe ten years with the same guys. We had so many good times. But the weekly expense and wear and tear on my body got the best of me. Oh, and if you’re interested, I once wrote a post about the 20 bowling personas I’d witnessed during that time period.
Kmart. Yes, Kmart. Their clothes fit me perfectly. Other department stores, not so much. Plus, they had the best ICEEs. Oh, and malted milk balls. Last I heard, they only had three stores remaining in the United States. Road trip, anyone?
Big Christmases. When my grandparents on my dad’s side were alive, we always got together on Christmas Eve. Between the presents, homemade cookies and people, it was one of the biggest highlights of the year.
Biga’s (pronounced BEE-GAHS). It was a small, neighborhood department store just a few blocks away from where I grew up. I usually spent my entire allowance there on Fridays, five minutes after I got it, on baseball cards and candy. I can still hear the wooden doors slide sideways when I told Mrs. Biga what I wanted. What a thrill! I once shot a video at the top of Biga’s Hill about the time I tried to ride my skateboard down it. It didn’t end well.
Blackberry. Yeah, I think the company is still around, but it may as well have died. The thing I loved about my Blackberry phone was its keyboard. Feeling and pressing those keys was so satisfying. Plus, I loved that navigation wheel on the side. I can still hear the gentle clicks.
I have twenty more items on my list, but you get the idea. I’ll probably add more in the coming days. But as I thought about the list I’ve already established, two things came to mind.
The first thing is something Elisabeth Elliot always used to talk about: “offering it up” to the Lord (by the way, if you’ve never heard her talk about this, check out this video presentation). The concept comes from Romans 12:1, and here’s what Elliot said about it in one of her books:
“God knows your heart and will accept your offering in any way you can make it, I am sure, but a very simple thing has helped me. It is to kneel with open hands before the Lord. Be silent for a few minutes, putting yourself consciously in His presence. Think of Him. Then think of what you have received in the four categories mentioned (are, have, do, suffer). . . . Next visualize, as well as you can, this gift, resting there in your open hands. Thank the Lord for whatever aspect of this gift you can honestly thank Him for. . . . Then, quite simply, offer it up.”
So, I can offer these gifts up to God with open hands, thanking him for giving them to me and allowing me to enjoy them for as long as I did.
The second thing is that not everything on my list is gone or impossible to experience again. Big Christmases are still possible. They would just look a little different. Bowling is still possible, maybe as a substitute. Camping and fishing are still possible if I put enough feelers out.
Regardless of whether I offer up the items on my list or find new ways to enjoy them, it feels like a win.
How about you? I’d love to hear about some of the items on your list. Leave them in the comments.
Here are some tidbits you might find interesting this week:
Food for thought: A Little Heresy by S. E. Reid.
A friend named Susan Prince wrote this on Facebook this week: “Sometimes ministry is praying with somebody, but mostly it’s cleaning toilets, taking out trash, and esteeming others higher than ourselves.”
When I sleep or work, I usually have a video like this one playing in the background on my television: Have a Relaxing Sleep to the Soothing Sound of Rain on a Tent.
Here’s a good reason to hold hope a little less tightly.
If you enjoy this free weekly newsletter, consider becoming a paying subscriber for $5 per month. Paying subscribers also receive a monthly, long-form essay that goes deeper than the weekly posts do. And you’ll have access to the complete archives.