As the name of my blog indicates, I spend a lot of time thinking about home. Of course, my Heavenly Home is the one that is eternal, so that’s where I need to lay up my treasures, and that’s the one I’m striving for. But in the meantime, I have been given this tiny piece of the here-and-now—this home on the edge of town, this family, this neighborhood—in which to serve Him. And, though this is in the earthly realm, I want the things that happen here to be investments in the Heavenly realm.

Friday, December 21, 2012

No Fingerprints

My back door looked like this for weeks.  I don't think that they show very clearly in this photo, but there are fingerprints all over the lower panes.  Small fingerprints.  Made by the sweet little fingers of my faraway grandchildren.  And although the children have been gone since the Monday after Thanksgiving, I could not bring myself to clean the marks off of my back door.   

So while I was decking the halls for Christmas, the fingerprints remained.

Kati invited some friends over for games and Christmas treats in early December, and I fully intended to clean the door before her friends came.  But that evening found me scurrying around to get ready for my shopping date with Ron, and I forgot.

So I just never got around to doing it.  And all during the month, I'd look over at those panes and smile, remembering.

On Tuesday, my friend Mary called to say that she was stopping by to drop something off.  And the fingerprints of Eve, Nora, and Peter had become mixed with those of the nearby grands and our own month's worth of fingerprints and the cats' nose prints.  And I decided that it was time to make those panes sparkle again.

But the clean glass does not sparkle as much as the memories that are living in my heart.   

And besides, I have my stones.  

The morning they left, as we were saying our good-byes, Eve bent down and picked up a stone out of the driveway, handed it to me, and said, "This is to remember me by."  Then Nora also handed me a stone.  I tucked them into my pocket, and after we had watched until their car was no longer in sight, I brought those stones in and set them on the windowsill above my kitchen sink.  

Yes, Eve and Nora, I remember.

And isn't that what Christmas is to the believer...a remembrance?  Our meager attempt at remembering His coming?  A few tangible ways to point to the Word made flesh, and to share our joy at what that means?  


  1. Cheryl, this is so very touching. Truly. My heart is moved. Stones of remembrance ....

  2. This reminds me of my mom. She would not clean the glass on her sliding glass door after her grands left. Sweet memories. Love this post! Full of love! Merry Christmas!

  3. Ohhhh...I have a stone upon my windowsill. You sound so much like my mother who refused to wash the picture window for months after we returned to Arizona to finish up my husband's time there in the Army. Drove my father batty. How'd your hubby do with it? Bet he was having the same rough time. =D

  4. This is lovely. I know you don't need stones or fingerprints to remind you of your little ones far away, but it's nice to look on the objects and smile, isn't it?

  5. I know how you feel, Cheryl!
    Wonderful memories, treasures.

  6. That is precious!

    How dear those grandchildren are!

    Thank you for sharing your heart with us!


  7. It's amazing the value that some fingerprints and stones can have ~ worth so much more than diamonds or a designer purse. Such a sweet post, Cheryl!


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