What we create are memories. Not only for ourselves but for others. What we think we are doing and creating, to another within their frame of reference, is an altogether different thing. For ourselves we may be enriching our experience. For the Other, we are oftentimes teaching something of great value. Or simply giving them something to warm them when life's experiences are not sufficient. It is important to keep in mind that what we think we are doing together is often quite different for the Other.
In my lifetime there have been many memory makers. The memories are sweet at times and often poignant and other times sad. Maybe not the intent of the memory makers but this was because of my frame of reference . If we approach each other with the intent of making our meetings something of substance, there will be many memories of those times. But the most effective I think are the ones where the relationship is mutually satisfying, the good moments become the sole substance in retrospect. There will not be a defining moment, simply a sigh of something that has come into our lives uninvited but leaving or creating a deeper fulfillment. Those are the ones that expand our spirits and give depth to who we are.
Oftentimes we are surprised, especially with children who visit when something is done which is outside their experience. Coming to mind is a special visit of small children to our home when I set the table for dinner with cloth napkins. The surprise on the little one's face will stay with me forever. 'I can wipe my face and hands on this?' the question was asked. Of course, of course. Another time with older children I quietly put logs in the fireplace and started a fire to take the fall chill out of the room while they slept on couches. I saw sleepy eyes open and close as they snuggled on down. The smiles on their lips are my memories. I am certain that in their adult lives they too will recreate similar moments for those they love. It is love that desires to make memories.
Small incidents surely. But in the lives of those we welcome into our hearts they become the stuffs that are the substance of character. Someone took or takes the time for these small things that begin to form the shape of who we are. Someone loved us enough to do this.
For love's sake, are we not honor bound to do the same?