Little Souvenirs of Life

I look at this tiny scar on my leg and remember that evening running through the sprinklers in the church’s front yard. I get a whiff of the soggy summer grass with every recollection of that night. Just a kid, carefree, yet my mind already collecting some of the heaviest memories that would spill over in adulthood.

A little souvenir of a season of life.

This summer I visited Banff National Park in Canada. We traveled with suitcases packed to the brim that took the firm pressure of a foot to zip them up, but we still knew there was a little room—that extra space to bring something back with us. 

We strolled the gift shops, running fingers along keychains, ornaments, hats, and t-shirts. What tangible item could fill the sliver of space in our carry-ons to serve as a fond memory of our week in the majestic mountains?

I made careful selections. A mug that fits perfectly in my hand with a maple leaf peek-a-booing from the interior. I could envision my mornings on my Florida deck sipping coffee from it, reminiscing on that summer vacation of 2024. Yes, I’ll take it—I slide my fancy Canadian money across the counter.

After years of life, vacations, and struggles, I try to make just as careful decisions on what I’ll take with me from each season. What’s deserving of that small extra space in my heart to journey on to the next phase of life? 

Because if I’m not intentional, I’ll end up stuffing in more than I’d intended, creating baggage that only weighs my spirit down.

The scar on my leg, the last name from a crumbled marriage, an insult that still rings in my ears. I don’t want these. I want a souvenir I hold like this delicate mug in my hands.

While not all seasons of life are traveling for pleasure, I’m learning to stroll the gift shop and take what I want…or maybe what I need.

Little blessings come during the trips that even hold a bit of turbulence. And as I move through this season of life, I welcome a new little kitty, Fern, into my home. She’s small and gentle and fits perfectly into the space I never knew was empty. A little souvenir of what to let grow and what to let wither. 

These little souvenirs of life are up to me to collect. And I thank God he doesn’t have a limit to what we can bring into each season. 

For now, I’ll shop carefully, knowing that these small gifts remind me of where I’ve been, how far I’ve come, and what a blessing it is to journey through life with open arms and open hearts that have just enough space for more.