We'll be in the midst of a discussion or a car ride or a dinner and they'll launch into, "remember when..." Occasionally, with the older three, it's some comparison between how "difficult" their existence was in comparison with the "carefree" lives of the younger three.
Most of the time the memories shared are of crazy things we've done together, simple everyday routines, our homes and neighborhoods where we once lived. The wonderful thing about all of their memories, even the exaggerated ones in which I made their lives so "difficult," is that they all have a constant theme. All of their memories are full..Full of fun and laughter, full of joy and togetherness. In sharing their past, they fill our home with a sense of contentment and satisfaction.
Tonight, though, the memory game was different. For the one child whose little feet have only been under my dinner table for the past 18 months, (my newbie) some of his memories are empty. And sometimes, our fullness is such a contrast, it takes my breath away.
With just my little three home for dinner tonight, I got ahead of myself and had everything ready super early. As my sweeties came downstairs, I told them we'd have an early dinner and maybe popcorn later. They loved that plan, but Big Sister (of the little 3) looked at the clock, and in her best memory-game voice said, "We've never had dinner this early!" And then, from somewhere far away, and yet a place close by in his heart, came an empty memory out of my little newbie's mouth. He said, so quietly, only I heard, "I used to not have dinner...Or breakfast." It wasn't exaggerated. It wasn't for sympathy. It was matter-of-fact, a memory that didn't match the fullness of the moment, a memory of empty.
One of my little guy's biggest struggles is with food. It's never a struggle to get him to eat. It's a struggle to assure him that he's had enough. When you've known empty for a long time, it's tough to comprehend full. Every morning when he wakes up, I have his favorite breakfast cereal waiting in a covered bowl out on the table so when he comes down he knows there is no fear of empty this morning. Our table is always full. When I started this for all three of the littles, my older ones (the Big 3, as they call themselves) didn't understand. They said, "You didn't do this for us." No, thank The Lord, I didn't have to. When I explained, they understood. His memories don't match theirs. They get it. (Now, one of the Big 3 secretly pours more milk in their pre-made cups because she worries their cereal will be dry.)
I'm praying the memories our newbie is making in our little world will always be full...full of fun, laughter, love and satisfaction. I pray even more that when he memory-matches in the future, the memories of God's provision will fill him with the knowledge of how very much he is loved by the One Who holds his life fully in His hands.
"You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore." Psalm 16:11
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