Memories On A Porch

My morning ritual is the same throughout the summer.
Each day my plants must be watered.
I water the plants on the deck outside my kitchen and the plants out front in the old rusty gates.
Watering the plants on the side porch made me pause.

It is a sneak attack.
The memories that come on so strong you have to pay attention.
The memories that catch you off guard in a good way.
The memories that scream to be remembered.

There is a porch swing, two rockers. and a wicker coffee table on one end of my side porch.
There is a garden bench with a sign, Welcome To The Porch, resting on the top shelf.
There is an antique ladder with an old washboard hanging on it.
There is a small glass top table with two chairs at the other end.

It was the small table that demanded my attention.
That small table was the place where many board games were played.
When my two sons were growing up, our neighborhood was full of boys their age.
There were six sets of brothers among the twenty-four houses in our development.

Bikes were ridden all around the neighborhood.
Football was played on the lawn; basketball was played on the driveway.
Skateboards were maneuvered around obstacles and over ramps on that same driveway.
Board games were played for hours on end.

The porch was the place where the board games were played.
The porch was shady and quiet.
I always had snacks for the boys: homemade brownies and cookies, popcorn, and pretzels.
I made lemonade or had some other cool drink to ward off the summer heat.

I could hear them out there, laughing and talking.
Monopoly games would go on for hours.
I even bought two more chairs and kept them against the wall next to the garden bench.
Four boys could comfortably sit and play board games on the small table.

Sometimes, there were more boys than seats so the others would sit on the porch swing.
Simultaneous games were often played on our porch.
What fun they all had there.
What fun I had listening to them.

I can still hear the sound of the metal legs of the chair against the cement porch floor.
I can still hear the groans when someone was losing and the cheers when they were winning.
I can still hear the porch door opening as my sons came in with the empty snack bowls.
I can still hear the voices of the boys calling directions to begin a football game on the lawn.

Now the games are silent.
The silence that particular morning on my side porch was deafening.
The memory came on like a sneak attack.
It was a good memory but it left me feeling a bit wistful.

For the young mother who is in the midst of diapers, feedings, and sleepless nights, just wait.
What seems to be never ending, will indeed end.
What seems to be never changing, will one day change.
What seems to be a cacophony of noise will one day be silent.

The games will be silent.

You cannot imagine that time right now but it will come.
You will remember every book you ever read to your child.
You will remember every game of Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders.
You will remember every glass of water that was requested to delay bedtime.

You will remember every butterfly kiss that brushed against your cheek.
You will remember sticky jelly fingers grabbing your hand.
You will remember every monster you bravely slew and every scary dream you soothed.
You will remember every crayon drawing that was made in your honor.

Sooner than you think the quiet you long for will be upon you.
However, even in that inevitable quiet, you will still hear it.
You will still hear the voices calling back and forth to each other.
You will hear the giggles when they are supposed to be asleep and the sobs they try to stifle.

But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I said to you. (John 14:26)

The disciples walked and talked with Jesus throughout His three year ministry.
As they walked along, Jesus taught the disciples many things.
Jesus healed the sick, made the lame walk, and the blind see.
Jesus brought dead people back to life.

When the disciples were with Jesus, they were not paying attention to every minute detail.
Jesus knew that the Holy Spirit would come after He died, rose again, and ascended to heaven.
The Holy Spirit would bring to mind all of the things Jesus taught His disciples.
Because of the Holy Spirit, the disciples were able to remember those things clearly.

I am sure there were frequent sneak attacks.
The Ah-Ha moments as the Holy Spirit brought clarity and understanding to the disciples.
The silence they heard after Jesus died ended when Jesus rose from the dead.
The disciples had Jesus with them forty more days before He ascended to His Father.

Jesus’ voice lingered in their hearts.
Jesus’ voice lingered in their memory.
The Holy Spirit took all that Jesus said and did and made it clear to the disciples.
They were to be Jesus’ hands and feet; they were to spread the Good News of the Kingdom.

The Holy Spirit came at Pentecost to make sure the Gospel would go forth.
The Gospel cannot be silenced.
Those who are in Christ cannot be silenced.
The Word of God will be heard.

If the silence of sharing the Gospel is deafening, then it is our fault.
There should be a cacophony of sound as we tell others about the Lord Jesus.
As God allows, there will be more games played on my porch by future generations.
As God allows, though His Holy Spirit, the Gospel will go forth.

Silence is not an option.