The home where I live has a shelf on which we keep baby cups, sand bottles, bells, little statues, and other items that hold memories.  My childhood cookie jar sits beside the last remaining platters from my great aunt Bib’s dishes.  My collegiate cup collection spans one end, and on the other, stands a little silver jewelry box, in front of a glass vase which belonged to my grandmother.  I can stand in the breakfast nook recalling people whom I love and by whom I have been loved, who have come into my life and this house and left an imprint on my heart, many imprints which the items on the keeping shelf symbolize.

By the same principle, some days stand shining as keeping days for me.  When I’m blue, when I feel that I’ve reached the limit of what I am able to endure, I close my eyes and summon the memory of one of those days.

Yesterday added to my collection of keeping days.  I spent the morning pulling old cards, pictures, certificates and letters from a cupboard where I’ve shoved them for years.  Some drew tears but even as I cried, I touched a picture, a signature, a face in a photo and felt the love that sustains me.

Then I went to the Nelson with my friend Brenda Dingley, whom it must be said should be everyone’s companion in an art museum. Knowledgeable, engaging, pleasant — Brenda taught me about periods of art and the impact of historical events on the development of artistic themes.  She deftly compared artists from one decade and country with those of later years.  We strolled, examined, studied, talked, and ruminated about the lives of the artists, the people depicted, and the places in the works before us.

In the evening, my friend Jenny Rosen came and lugged four loads of laundry down to the basement. She coaxed me into discarding things from the piles on my table without judgment or condemnation.  Then we ventured out into the wintry weather, finding a restaurant where no Super Bowl viewers had congregated.  We dined and shared stories, feelings, frustrations, and dreams.

By ten, I realized that my day had exhausted me and I shut down the house for the night.  A pleasant glow followed me to sleep.  Despite the fact that the night would be an uncomfortable one for me; and today would dawn too early and bring some difficult moments for me; I have another keeping day to cheer me when life threatens to overwhelm.

This evening, sorrow has pulled me down. I know that I will regain my center by tomorrow, and so, I am not complaining — though I admit, tonight, I am discouraged.  I’m thankful that I have yesterday to remember.  The keeping days still outweigh the days of discouragement.  And so I cling to them, and they will carry me through.