Memory of a Scissor
Back on day one in Nashville I took a long walk. Out country roads to a nice little disc golf course, enjoyed a quick solo round before heading back a different route. There is a lot that is beautiful about Tennessee, but I have noticed a couple things that could use some work. I mentioned on an Instagram reel the lack of any kind of consistent sidewalks, I’m getting used to that at this point.
What has really made me sad in such a beautiful place though is the amount of trash along those roads without sidewalks. For awhile I tried to keep a running list of the unique things I stepped over while on foot, but eventually I lost count. To be fair, it’s stuff you wouldn’t notice while driving, and these aren’t exactly frequently walked roads I was on.
But there was one piece of decree that made me smile amidst all the junk. I had to stop and take a picture to share with my wife, sister, and mom. You may be looking at the picture and fairly asking, “why?”
My mom’s mom, known to the grandkids as “Nana” was a special woman. Her and Papa are a big part of my story of faith, ministry, and life. I have memories of holidays, random visits, and her coming to babysit my sister and I with our favorite candy bars always stashed in her purse. When my parents needed an extra set of hands at their ice cream store, Nana and Papa were always ready to jump in. They had their faults, made their mistakes, and probably indulged us to a fault. (Don’t get my mom started on the way we were allowed to spin the rotating coffee table that her and my uncle were practically banned from touching, let alone spinning like a top…)
Aside from kitty sweatshirts with collars and her permed and tinted hair, Nana could also be counted on for her unique way of life and communication. She made coffee every morning, take a few sips, and then forget about it. Then she would pop it in the microwave to heat it up, and forget it again. It became a game for me to check the microwave first when I stopped by just to see if that day (or the previous day’s) coffee was hiding in there. She had detailed notes scattered around her kitchen in a system that was only decipherable to her. She referred to those famous peanut butter cups as “Reesers” instead of “Reese’s” and always referred to scissors in the singular.
It was never, “Where are the scissors?” It was, “the scissor”. Monica and I stayed with her for a period of time when things were tough and our oldest was a baby, and Monica picked up that term as a lasting memorial to that time. Someday one of our grandkids will likely write blog posts about their silly Grandma Momo and her scissor. (Monica always finishes her coffee.)
So when I saw what can only be described as, “a scissor” laying on the ground, how could I not stop and snap a quick photo for those who knew and loved Nana best. As I kept walking, I thought about the way a memory can turn trash into a reason to smile. I didn’t have a great biblical thought to go along with this one, just a reflection. Though one I think lines up with a life of following Jesus.
There is a lot of trash in people’s lives. Hurtful experiences, relationships, and events can pile up in our hearts. Our failings, failures, and fears can litter the journey of our lives in ways that mar what would otherwise be a wonderful journey. Though we may hate to admit it, we also have added to the trash in the lives of others. Whether with intention or accidentally, our actions, words, inactions, and silences have and will do harm.
Today, as I think about that scissor, I find I want to consider how I might add memories that might even make one piece of trash a little nicer in the life of another.