The Things We Keep

There are just some things we hold onto. Sometimes for a reason, sometimes simply because they’ve always been with us.

There’s a small wooden jewelry box. My father brought for me during a summer our family spent in Mexico City, between my fourth and fifth grade years. I remember the afternoon he brought it back from the marketplace… he had bartered for it, a proud smile on his face. I placed a little charm inside, a tiny, Our Lady of Guadalupe, a souvenir from the cathedral we visited there with my grandmother. The scent of the wood still lingers when I open it, as if holding onto that summer itself.

I also have a delicate scarf from my mother. It’s really more of a handkerchief, carefully folded, just as she always kept it. Tucked away in a little chest, it looks nearly untouched by time.

Then there’s my grandmother’s watch. It no longer ticks… only the face remains… but I wear it occasionally as a vintage accessory.

From childhood, I still have my original Barbie case and several dolls I collected around third grade. The original Barbie, Midge, and a doll named Tressy whose hair would grow when you pressed a little button in her tummy. They’re all safely tucked away, treasured reminders of a simpler time.

And recently, I realized I had forgotten one of the most cherished keepsakes of all… a beautiful Afghan crocheted by my grandmother when I was about 19. We had visited a small yarn shop in La Habra, California together, and I chose the colors myself: bright orange, bright green, and white… vibrant hues that matched the wallpaper in my bedroom at the time. She worked on it with love, and it has traveled with me through every move, every chapter. I see it now and think of the girl I was, the bond we shared, and the care stitched into every loop and row.

These are the things I’ve kept. Not because they’re grand or valuable to anyone else… but because they are part of my story. They carry scent, memory, and love. They’ve helped me feel rooted as life moves forward.

As I think about these treasures… small, ordinary, things sliced with extraordinary meaning… I realize how they’ve helped carry me through seasons of change. They’ve been quiet companions as I’ve let go of one chapter and stepped uncertainly into the next. And now, as I stand in this new place, not quite where I used to be, and not fully grounded where I am, I’m learning to walk in faith through that in between.

Coming up next: In Faith and the in-Between… reflections on transition, trust, and finding beauty in the spaces between where we were and where we’re going.