I love layering. I layer my clothes, the dishes on the china cabinet, the pillows on the sofa. I love visiting homes with lots of layers, because, when purposefully done, layers add interest and beauty to a space. I know minimalists who definitely wouldn’t agree with my propensity for layers, but for me, there’s something beautiful about giving the eye something more to seek. I don’t mean to mistake layers for clutter; in my mind, clutter is thoughtless, haphazard, noisy, cumbersome. Layers, to me, are quite the opposite.
I was thinking tonight about how my memories are made up of so many beautiful, intricate layers, but when I travel back to the times I most remember and treasure, they are the simplest times. Somehow, my mind’s eye conjures colors, textures, and facets that may or may not have actually been a part of the actual experience. It’s almost as if my subconscious craves those layers, because the more they’re peeled back, the more intriguing those memories become, and the more I remember and rediscover what I truly value.
As I thought back to my childhood a little while ago, I was actually on the verge of lamenting that my kids’ childhoods seem so one-dimensional compared to what mine was until I remembered that their experiences are not my own, nor should they be. Their simple pleasures will become, I hope, beautiful, intentional, thoughtful layers as they continue on their individual journeys. I pray that, on their most challenging, noisy, chaotic adult days, they will be able to peel back the layers, one by one, in search of the beauty that existed in their simple moments, and that they will remember that, in the midst of the simple moments, unfathomable treasure awaits them.
I love those who love me, and those who seek me find me. — Proverbs 8:17