Scribbles

One of the benefits of spring cleaning is finding lost treasures. A few weeks ago, while cleaning out my dresser, I uncovered a tattered blue journal held together by crumbling, clear tape. Faded gold lettering on the front cover says, “The Scribble-in Book.”

I sat down on the floor and forgot about the dresser as I opened the front cover to refresh my memory of the book’s lengthy history. In my Grandmother’s handwriting was simply written “Aunt Ida. Received 9-11-88.” Right below Grandma’s writing, I had written “Given to me by Grandma T, Fall of 1995.”

My Great-Great Aunt Ida, the originator of the journal, was one of the godliest women I have ever known. She never married and never drove a car. She graduated from Moody Bible Institute while D.L Moody was President. She taught Sunday School for as long as she was able and was everyone’s “Aunt Ida.” She spent her years studying the Bible and loving all who came across her path. She was also the family “cake baker/decorator.” It was while staying with my Grandparents to recuperate from a broken hip that Aunt Ida passed The Scribble-in book on to my Grandma. My Grandma faithfully visited Aunt Ida during her final years in a nursing home, helping her with her lunch and praying with her. Aunt Ida passed away at the age of 101 while I was still in elementary school.

I have many memories of my Grandma during my growing up years. A good majority of those memories center around a discussion of the Bible, visiting her Bible Study Fellowship luncheons, and sitting with her and Grandpa every Sunday in the next-to-the-last row of pews in church. When I headed off to college in Fall 1995, Grandma introduced me to The Scribble-in Book and passed the treasure on to me. She always believed I would write. Grandma passed away just over a year ago after suffering from crippling arthritis for years. I’m sure she and Aunt Ida had a great reunion.

Mesmerized, I began to carefully thumb through the yellowing pages. I smiled as my fingers traced the familiar hand writing of these two precious women who loved God so dearly. I could see their personalities shining through and could almost hear their voices read the stories. They each filled pages with poems, short stories, and notes from sermons and books that left an impression on them. As I flipped through the book, I noticed that I had not contributed much yet to this history. The book now sits in a prominent place next to my computer – something my Great-Great Aunt never owned. As I listen to sermons while I sew or clean or come across an article that is especially meaningful, I give the thoughts the permanent honor of a home in The Scribble-in Book.

Someday, maybe my own daughter will thumb through the pages and be impacted by the thoughts of women who lived long before her. Maybe words from the book will shape what she does that day. You never know what your legacy may mean.

My life is like a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.
Sometimes He weaveth sorrow
And I, in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.

Not until the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will the Lord unroll the canvas
And tell the reason why.
My life is like a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.

from “My life is like a weaving”
(captured by Aunt Ida in The Scribble-In Book)