Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Mary, I don’t want to reminisce about my teenage years. They were awkward, filled with bad haircuts and questionable fashion choices!” Well, come on now, buckle up. Because while you might hesitate, those golden moments are worth revisiting. Trust me, stay till the end, and you’ll find a slice of wisdom wrapped in sweet nostalgia!

Close your eyes and take a trip back in time, say, around 1969. You could find me, Mary, then a wild-eyed seventeen-year-old, cruising down Main Street in our family’s trusty old Chevy, windows down, letting my hair dance with the wind. The radio would be blasting “Sweet Caroline,” and if I got lucky, a good ol’ Johnny Cash tune would come on. Back then, Fridays were reserved for good, honest fun, technically orchestrated by our heavenly Father above.

One of my fondest memories, hands-down, has to be the summer of ‘69 at Granger’s County Fair. The fairgrounds were bustling, the air thick with the mingling aromas of popcorn, cotton candy, and that sweet scent of freedom. Now, mind you, I wasn’t one to seek thrills from just any old fair ride. No, sir! The Ferris wheel, towering and spinning in all its bright, blinking glory, was my go-to for a date with the divine.

There was this one night I’ll never forget. Stars shimmered overhead, and just as I took my seat, I noticed a shifty young man sitting beside me. Not the clean-cut choir boy I typically mollycoddled, but something about him intrigued me. He was like a chapter in the Good Book I hadn’t yet discovered – mysterious and full of potential for getting into … shall we say, mild mischief? So, as we rose higher and higher on that Ferris wheel, I turned to him and asked, “You ever think about what’s beyond those stars?”

Caught off guard, he blinked a few times and murmured something I couldn’t quite catch. But then he said, “Girl, I don’t know. But if there’s more beyond, we sure got ourselves a good start down here.” And boy, if that didn’t give my heartstrings a good ol’ pluck! Now don’t worry, dear readers, before you get your bloomers in a twist, nothing untoward happened. But we did talk about Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and the genuine simplicity of life for the rest of that dreamy ride.

Back on solid ground, we meandered amongst the stands, hand-in-hand – purely platonic, of course. Once, we found ourselves at the tent for the local youth charity raffle. Feeling a touch of playful piety, I bought us some tickets, and don’t you know it, we won a giant stuffed bear, which, by all accounts, was a miracle almost rivaling that of the loaves and fishes.

We wandered over to the open-air dance floor, where the band was playing some rockabilly classics and the sky had just begun its shift from dusky purple to the inky blue of night. With the giant bear witnessing our every move, I found myself being twirled in the dance, chuckling at the memory of my grandma’s voice, “Mary, remember, keep one foot on the Holy Ground!”

Well, as the night drew to a close, he walked me to the Chevy, his hand in mine, and we prayed together, thanking the Lord for the blissful moments and asking for guidance as we ventured into our futures. Then, with a smile, he gave me the bear – said it was for me to remember our night. And remember it, I always have. Just goes to show, even a simple fair ride can turn into a cherished memory, like a precious pearl formed from the grit and grind of life.

As we tread deeper into the golden years – let’s face it, folks, we’ve got more miles behind us than in front – it’s memories like these that pepper our lives with meaning, each one a tiny testament to the beautiful, simple joys God providentially placed before us. So, while you may feel like shrugging off your teenage years as dated snapshots of embarrassments, hold tight to the good ones, like that old Chevy steering wheel.

If a young man nowadays wants to impress a gal, let me tell you – he’s got mad competition from a certain shifty Ferris wheel date from 1969, who made just the right kinda impression without an Instagram filter in sight. Those moments, my dear friends, shaped who we are. Cherish those memories, share them with your grandkids, and maybe you’ll see them reflected in some way in their own lives, with their own God-given adventures.

So, my lovely readers, remember this: Let’s not rush to dismiss the past. Keep those precious memories close, let them be the gentle whisper in the wind that calls us back to simpler times. Share your stories in the comments below, and let’s walk down memory lane together. And who knows, maybe it’ll give us all a moment to breathe, smile, and reflect on the gentle beauty God bestowed on our lives.

Just remember, if you think those days weren’t special, take a second gander. After all, usually, the best stories on Main Street are wrapped in the simplicity of side alley surprises. Amen and God bless!

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