Making Memories

Bonnie Drury learned early on how important it is to make memories with your children. 

My granddaughter and I went to the movies yesterday. It wasn’t my favorite movie, but Mia loved it. And we were making memories. This is so important, especially with our children and grandchildren.

Telling Stories

We can instill little stories about our Catholic faith that will stay with them throughout their lives. When a ladybug landed on Mia the other day, she was enchanted. I asked, “Do you know why they’re called ladybugs?” She shook her head.

“An old European legend says that farmers were having trouble with aphids destroying their crops. They prayed to Our Lady for help. Large numbers of red beetles appeared and devoured the aphids. The farmers called the insects “Our Lady’s beetles,” and eventually, they became widely known as “ladybugs.” Making memories.

Take the Time

I have a dear friend who sadly tells me all the time how much she misses her son and grandsons. I love her, so I bite my tongue. Maria and her husband both worked and spent every weekend at their yacht club. Later, when they wanted to try something new, they bought a fancy RV, and off they went. Their son and grandsons were not included.

One time she told me, “If he thinks I’m spending all my time babysitting, he has another think comin’.” The other grandparents did all the babysitting and hosted family get-togethers, and have a wonderful relationship with her family. They put in the time and made the effort. I added my friend to my Divine Mercy prayers in the hopes that things will change.

Thinking back to when my own kids were small, I sometimes needed a jolt to remember what was really important. I started to bake cookies when they were headed home from school on the bus, so that’s what they’d smell when they came through the door. For my husband’s sensory delight, I’d put the bread dough in the oven when he was on the way home. Granted, this was when we lived in northern Idaho, and I was able to stay home.

Lasting Impressions

One day, also back in time and back in Idaho, the phone rang, jarring me away from my chores.

“Bonnie, it’s Joyce. Uncle Paul died this morning.”

“I’m so sorry, Joyce. How did it happen?”

“He went out to the barn to feed his cows, then just sat down and died.”

Out the side window, I could see Paul’s cows grazing peacefully. The brilliance of the sun seemed to deny the old farmer’s passing.

“It’s kind of nice when you think about it,” I said.

“Yes, that’s how he would have wanted to go.” Her voice broke.

Later, after we hung up, I again felt drawn to the window facing Paul’s farm. The herd was now partially hidden by wild lilacs, their spreading lavender stretching the length of Paul’s fence line.

It’s odd, I thought, how life continues. Paul’s estate would be scattered among surviving relatives, with little of his existence remaining. The most lasting impression most of us can make upon this world is in the memories of others.

My boys came thundering down the stairs. “Mom, we’re hungry!”

I smiled. “Okay, we’ll have lunch, and then we’ll make popcorn and watch a movie.” We’ll make some memories, I thought.

Faced with a pile of laundry or a walk with your child who wants to spend time with you, what will you choose?

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Copyright 2026 Bonnie Drury
Images: Canva