This afternoon Emerald directed my attention to a family scrapbook I hadn’t viewed in a while, a photo album with the title “Memory Lane.” Her baby abilities have been on the increase lately, and her “sticky fingers” are grabbing with greater efficiency. This scrapbook, stored on a bottom shelf, was her newest conquest.

After she’d perused C.S.Lewis and “The Problem of Pain,” she ooched left, swiveled, and grabbed “Memory Lane,” ripping out the inscription page and the first page of photos before anyone noticed. Normally this wouldn’t bother me, since many of my possessions have been similarly “loved” by grandchild-hands. But this album was a gift to Nate from me, and I wanted to keep it nice.

Over 30 years of time, I’d collected pictures of all the cars we’d ever owned as a couple, along with a few my parents had owned. There’s Nate’s first car, my first car, and every car after that, including the multiple “low budget” cars of 7 driving children. The album has 71 vehicles pictured…. so far.

As I secretly tucked away photos over the years, I always knew they would one day be a special surprise for Nate. But it was tricky deciding when to give the scrapbook, since additional cars were always being added. Then finally I couldn’t wait any longer to see his reaction and decided to give it on his birthday in August, 2009. It must have been God prompting me, because that was his last birthday.

Although he didn’t feel good that evening, he loved his gift and praised me for the effort behind it. The very next week we learned (after a physical exam) that something was “off” in his blood numbers, and further tests were ordered. Within a month of that birthday party, we’d heard the words “terminal pancreatic cancer,” and 2½ months after he turned 64, he was gone.

Today when the album suffered at Emerald’s hands, it went against me. Something about keeping that scrapbook in good shape seemed to help keep my connection with Nate in good shape.

Not that a simple photo album can bridge the massive gap between earth and heaven. But just seeing my written greeting to him on the front page remains a link between the two of us, at least for me (though surely no longer for him).  We are approaching the 4 year mark from his death, and with time I find it more and more difficult to stay connected to him.

I believe God gently supplies potent reminders of our relationships with loved ones who’ve passed away (like the car album’s appearance today) as instruments of healing. People who’ve experienced loss want to reaffirm (again and again) that their bond with that person is still strong. Gifts from the past, both given and received, help do that.

And so, when Louisa saw the damage to Nate’s scrapbook, she quickly devised a solution, removing some of the photos, gluing them elsewhere, trimming the inscription page, pasting it over something else, and voila! The revised scrapbook is almost as good as new.

And as of today, it’s found a new home on a very high shelf.

“The Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)