I recall in 3rd grade, my Sunday school teacher had asked us, "if your house caught on fire, what would you grab to take out with you?" Even at the ripe, wise, old age of [well, however old I was in 3rd grade] I knew she was fishing for us to say, our Bible. But I thought to myself, I love God and all, but you can always get another Bible.
My answer? I'd take photos with me. Those are irreplaceable.
My inquisitive and wandering nature began.
Perhaps I'm struggling with the recent involuntary and instant loss both of human life and of the 'things' that were deemed important amidst the absolutely surreal tsunami that resulted from Japan's recent earthquake. But these folks must now go on, many, without their loved ones. And most without their once treasured possessions.
In the end we all know we can't take any of the physical things we surround ourselves with, with us. But, if you could fill one bucket with up to five items, possessions, tools, etc. from your home to grab in an emergency, what would they be?
They make us comfortable, but they are not critical.
Certainly the things we have do bring us a sense comfort, or status, or hold memories. But what's interesting is that when you are separated from those 'things', you actually find you already and still carry a great deal of your life in your mind. In fact, the 'thing' itself is of no consequence, it's the importance you put on it that gives it value.
"C'est le temp que tu as perdu pour ta rose qui fait ta rose si importante."My hope is that we never ever have a need to fill our bucket. And that when we say, you're in our thoughts, you take great comfort that that's a very safe place where you can stay for a very long time.
It's the [time/love/value] you have given to the rose that makes the rose so important.
— Le Petit Prince
©2011 Wendy Hudgins