When the lights go out.

Some of the most exhilarating times growing up were spent when a particular storm hit, the electric took a break, and the lights went out. It added an element of excitement to the mundane routine of life—a random surprise thrown in the mix. There could be an underlying sense of fear—dark hallways with lurking monsters and burglers, but my parents took on the burden of making the event happy instead. Instead of being defeated by the dark, my Mom would take out all the candles that were stored away, scattering them all over the house making it smell like a Yankee Candle shop. My Dad would light up the generator—making our kitchen nice and toasty. We’d whip out the old Monopoly board and strike up a game over hot cocoa. The feeling of living like a “Pioneer family” like we had been learning about in school. Needless to say, I looked forward to these times—memories with family, the quiet of the night interuppted by rips of laughter over a bloodbath at Monopoly. 

Just the other night I was taken back with this nostalgia, when our apartments lights flickered, sputtered, and went out. I was immediately filled with warm, fuzzy feelings from the past. Remniscient of my family—knowing what we would be doing right then (if I were still home with them and 10 years younger). So Drew and I whipped out every candle that we owned—making the house smell like a great big pumpkin pie. We didn’t have a generator, so we pulled out every blanket that we own—bundling up, and making ourselves nice and toasty. Instead of Monopoly, we had to act like adults and finish our homework in the light of our laptops. But it was a similar idea. 

Looking back, I’m so thankful for wonderful memories like these—triggered by certain events or scenarios. I can think on my family, on happy times, and am reminded to be thankful for the opportunity to have taken part in them. It also gives me a great desire to create memories (building off of old ones or starting new ones altogether) with Andrew, and then in the future, with our children. I want to be able to look back, thinking on good times, getting to know our family more, and sharing in a laugh or two. I also hope and pray, that my children can look back the way that I do with my parents. 

It may sound cliché—or a bit too good to be true, but God has been reminding me just how good I’ve had it growing up. Things were not always perfect or ideal. We are all sinners and have acted that way. With both the good and the bad combined into a past, it makes me thankful, thankful for God’s provision, thankful for a great family, and thankful for the opportunity to continue in that provision and grace.