nostalgia.

The memorial of Jackie Winters, my step grandmother, was conducted today. In all honesty I admit that I wasn’t too fond of her being in town to visit when I was bringing friends home for the holidays; she was suffering from Lou Gehrig’s disease and she required a lot of attention from my family- which meant less attention would be spent on me (I know, I can be really selfish). But Jackie would send me homemade cards on a regular basis where she would tell me about everything that was going on her life. She would write them in that old school cursive script older people write in and they took forever to read. On my lonely Sunday’s at Biola I would finally find the time to read them and they always made me forget that I was lonely… May her memory be eternal.

I asked my mother tonight if I, at the age of 26, am further along in my relationship with God than she was when she was 26. (I was probably fishing for compliments) Her response:

“In philosophy perhaps, but in your walk with God I’m not so sure.”

Ouch! She wasn’t even a Christian until she was 36! But maybe I should take that as a hint and maybe I should do something about it.

We put up the Christmas tree I grew up with tonight. While straightening out its wired branches I caught a whiff of synthetic pine and the smell of old metal and all of my childhood memories of Christmas flooded my senses. I haven’t felt that way during Christmas, well, since the last time I was around this same tree. We even got my old train out and it still had my GI Joes tapped to it.


“Too much and too little wine.
Give him none, he cannot find
truth; give him too much, the same.”

-Blaise Pascal