My Treasures... Memories

When I hear the word "treasure", the first thought that comes to my mind is something priceless, valuable, something irreplaceable.

Here is what the dictionary say is the meaning of, treasure.
1. wealth or riches stored or accumulated, esp. in the form of precious metals, money, jewels, or plate.
2. wealth, rich materials, or valuable things.
3. any thing or person greatly valued or highly prized: This book was his chief treasure.
–verb (used with object)
4. to retain carefully or keep in store, as in the mind.
5. to regard or treat as precious; cherish.
6. to put away for security or future use, as money.

I guess I was right on the money (pun intended). :o)I have different kinds of treasures. In the next couple of days, in no particular order, I'm going to write about some of my treasures. Today I'll focus on just one... memories.

I know it sounds funky. How can memories of something be a treasure? It is to me. I have so many memories that I treasure. I'll share just a few.

When I was about 6 my sister and I got a bike to share. It was a beautiful blue bike with a basket. We had been outside riding it when my mom called us in to eat lunch. We left our bike outside. When we went back outside our bike was not there. We were heartbroken. Someone had stolen our bike. My mom told us to take a nap and that she would go around the neighborhood to see if she could find it. When we got up, there is was. She had found our bike. At that moment I seized to see her as "just" a mom, she was Supermom. She had confronted the little thief and brought back our bike.

At the age of 8, I told my after school childcare provider that I my mom was pregnant and that I was going to have a baby brother. When my mom came to pick me and my sister up, she was congratulated by my teachers. My mom had no clue what they were talking about. Nine months later, my brother was born. To this day I remember the Italian restaurant my dad took me and my sister to, to celebrate my brother's birth. It was also the first time I had a sip of wine. My parents still have that bottle. This was 36 years ago.

During my teen years, I felt lonely, unloved and unwanted. No so much by my family, but because I was so painfully shy. I remember having thoughts of suicide. How this world would be better off if I wasn't in it. How I didn't even make a difference. Why be here? These are painful memories.

My first day as a senior in high school, one of my classes had to be changed. In my new class was this boy with the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. I was wearing a white cotton dress that had little yellow flowers on it. This blue eyed boy and I would steal glances at each other through out the class. I was mesmerized.

A week before I turned 19, I said I do to that blue eyed boy. Since he was in the service, we were blessed to be able to travel in Europe. I can still recall all the adventures we had overseas... site seeing, country hopping, going topless, snow skiing, wind surfing, learning the language, meeting the people and more.

Finding out for the first time, that I was pregnant. I was in disbelief. We had been married 5 years and no babies. Euphoric and ecstatic doesn't even come close to how I felt. Ten months after the our first one, our second one was born, then eighteen months later our third one was born. Four years later our fourth one came along.

I was grief-stricken when at the age of 19 my brother passed away. My sister, his fiance and my grandma were visiting me and my family. The phone rang early Sunday morning. It was my mom. An Army chaplain had been trying to reach them since Saturday. My brother was in the 82nd Airborne division. He was killed by a drunk driver. My heart stopped when my mom told me my brother had died. My world as I knew it had fallen apart.

One night, a year and a half after my brother died, at my neighbors home I accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. God started to heal piece back together my heart. My world was being mended. My Babe and I got saved on the same day. We got baptized on the same day too.

Miscarrying at 18 weeks was traumatic. I had always wanted a large family. Would I be able to carry another child. My heart was once again broken. A year later our last baby was born. Our quiver was full.

I have many more treasured memories. These are just a few. I shared some good ones and some painful ones. God used the painful ones to make me stronger. I've been able to help others because of what I've gone through. So I'm thankful for the good ones and the sorrowful ones.

“I've never tried to block out the memories of the past, even though some are painful. I don't understand people who hide from their past. Everything you live through helps to make you the person you are now.”- Sofia Loren