Feb. 9, 2025, column from the Amarillo Globe-News:
Treasured memories and treasures in heaven
By Mike Haynes
“Making memories” has been a common expression the past few years. You hear it in TV commercials,
on social media posts and just in conversation.
There’s
nothing at all wrong with the concept, but I often think that memories just
happen and aren’t made, similar to the idea that sometimes it isn’t the
destination that’s memorable, but the journey.
Of
course we plan trips, events and family times at the house with the hope that
those gatherings will be recalled and talked about fondly for years. But how
many memories also are born from unexpected experiences such as getting caught
in the rain or even from bittersweet moments in a hospital waiting room?
All
our memories can’t be planned; many just happen naturally.
I’m
the king of trying to preserve memories – sometimes through writing, often from
all the souvenirs and T-shirts I bring home from trips and by crowding my
closet with clothes from 30 years ago.
I
do know what Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount: “Do not store up for
yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where
thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven,
where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and
steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matt.
6:19-21, NIV)
But,
but … the trinkets on my shelves are reminders of fun or meaningful times: the
sticker from the Cavern Club in Liverpool; the olive wood shepherd figure from
Israel; the copper cross made from my hometown church’s original steeple.
Those
items are important to me, but I know they are just “treasures on earth” that
can burn up in a fire. It’s the times with people that last.
My
dad died last month. I’m tempted to summarize his exceptional, 93-year-old
life, but I’ve already done that a few years ago and in his obituary that ran
in this newspaper Jan. 13. Johnny Haynes made indelible marks in community
service, in athletics, in his church and with his large family. So memories
have been on my mind as they have for my three brothers, my sister and all the
family.
We made plenty of memories, from station wagon trips to Ruidoso on summer vacations to school sports to golf, to laughing while playing games at the kitchen table to working cattle to keeping a night watch during the 2006 prairie fire that threatened our house.
Mom,
who died in 2013 at age 83, and Dad were at the center of all the good and bad
times. Everybody in McLean knew Johnny and Joyce Haynes, because they also were
at the center of the church and community. My family is blessed to have had
them and to have memories of them.
At
Dad’s funeral – in the church my parents had helped lead since 1950 – my family
had set up a saddle to represent a life of ranching, Dad’s Roping Club chaps,
one of his felt hats, his spurs, a football, a tennis racquet, a McLean Tiger
jersey, lots of family photos and more. And the speakers – my pastor cousin,
Thacker Haynes, friend Ted D. Simmons and nephew John Ruel Haynes – certainly
evoked memories of Dad along with their sincere Christian messages.
Thacker
didn’t preach about memories the Sunday after Dad left us, though. The gist of
his sermon was “The best is yet to come.”
He
did recall the local church in the 1950s and 1960s, when he and I were growing
up and the town and church both had lots more people. But those days of Sunday
school rooms full of children and multiple classes of adults are gone in a
community that an interstate highway passed by in the 1980s. The thing is,
those “good ol’ days” have been replaced with more good days. The current
church helps those in need with its Angel Program, collaborates with other
churches in town to build attendance at events and maybe does more in outreach
than it did decades ago.
Thacker
recalled a farmer friend showing him how to plow a field. My cousin kept
looking back to see if his row was straight, and the friend told him you have
to look directly ahead if you want to plow a proper row.
The
scripture reading was John 2:1-11, the story of Jesus changing water to wine.
After the miracle, the wedding banquet master was amazed that the best wine had
been saved for last.
Before
the water became wine, Jesus’ mother had told the servants, “Do whatever he
(Jesus) tells you
to do.” That’s the key, my cousin said: “In my life, when I
listen to the Holy Spirit and do what he wants me to do, it always works out.”
A
few days before my Dad’s final breath, he had separate intimate talks with
another of my cousins and with one of our nieces. Both times, he made it clear
he was ready to go to the place Christ had prepared for him – and to dance
again with Mom.
And
as another niece was leaving the hospital room that week, I heard him whisper
to her, “Y’all do the best you can, and I’ll do the best I can.”
He
had great family memories, but he was looking forward.
