My Top Ten List

Memories of the past sharpen our awareness of the present

By Renae Brumbaugh

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we’ve found a tumor on your brain. If we don’t remove it, you will die.” Silence. “The tumor is located on the part of your brain which stores memory. If we remove the tumor, you will lose all of your experiences, your relationships. You will remember nothing about your life.”

I stared mutely at the doctor, groping for which piece of information to process first. My children, gone? My husband, my parents, gone? My childhood? “But, Doctor, surely there is something you can do! This . . . this can’t be happening to me!”

The white-coated gentleman leaned back in his chair. “There is a new technology which may work for you. We can store up to ten human memories on a chip, and after the surgery, we can reinsert the memories into your brain. No more than ten, you understand. Your brain can handle only one of these chips; any more than that will kill you.”

I went from silence to hysteria in a matter of seconds. “No!” I sobbed. “This can’t be happening to me!”

“Honey, wake up!” The doctor was shaking me. “Renae! Wake up!” I opened my eyes to find my husband Mark. I looked around my bedroom, reality slowly sinking in.

“That was some dream you were having! You okay?”

“Yeah.” I watched as he settled back under the covers. “I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

I didn’t sleep much the rest of the night. I couldn’t help but ask myself, Which memories would I keep? Which would I throw away? I kept turning these questions over and over in my mind, sorting through the file cabinet of my life. Slowly, I began to realize that along with the tragedy of that situation would come a tremendous gift. What if I could actually throw away all the junk of my life? All the pain, hurt, betrayal . . . gone! What if every bad memory of my life could disappear, and only the most worthy ones remained?

As I began to sort through my memoirs, I sadly realized that much of my life was simply not worth remembering. Where did it go? What happened to all the years, days, hours, minutes? It was easy for me to find the bad memories. I chose to toss them out right away. But the good memories, the really fantastic ones—I just couldn’t find very many. Suddenly I regretted more than ever the wasted time.

The time when no memory was formed; instead, time just passed. I thought of the hours of television viewing, and the time spent worrying over things which never came to be. Why hadn’t I spent more time creating lovely memories? Why, when given the opportunity to choose my favorites, did I have so few to choose from?

Here, in random order, are a few that made it to my Top Ten List:

1. June 8, 1991—the day I married Mark Foster Brumbaugh. He was so handsome in his black tuxedo. I felt as if I was walking into a fairy tale.

2. May 12, 1997—the birth of Charis Rebecca Brumbaugh, my daughter. God allowed me to have a part in giving life to an angel. I will never forget the joy of holding her in my arms for the first time.

3. Standing in the courtroom, finalizing the adoption of our son, Foster James Brumbaugh. He had been ours since his birth, but now it was official! The judge smiled and shook Mark’s hand. I cried. Charis squealed. Foster, taking his cue from his sister, laughed that great baby belly laugh of his!

4. Sitting in my mother’s lap in the green rocking chair in the corner of our kitchen. She read to me and sang to me. I felt safe and loved.

5. Riding on Daddy’s shoulders at the ball park, watching my brother Shelby play baseball. I thought I could touch the sky!

6. Standing in the fountain in downtown Houston with Mark. (Long story.)

7. Singing the alto solo in the Fort Hood performance of Handel’s Messiah. I wore a pretty blue dress. Performing that beautiful, timeless music with that wonderful choir, I remember thinking, This must be a little bit like heaven.

8. Swimming in the cow tank with my friend Stephanie.

9. Picking out a Christmas tree with Daddy. Hitting the after-Christmas sales with Mom.

10. The time, in sixth grade, when Tammi Johnson stood by me while all my other so-called friends were making fun of me. Tammi had been my best friend since first grade. I was not alone.

11. The smell of “Old Spice” cologne. It always reminds me of sitting in Granddaddy’s lap, listening to the tick-tick of his pocket watch.

12. The spotted kitchen floor. (I don’t know why this is one of my favorite childhood memories. Some things just don’t make sense!)

13. At age four, lying in the backyard on a sunny day, enjoying the breeze and feeling that God sent it just to tickle my face.

14. Cuddling Charis and Foster in the early morning hours, after they have crawled into bed with us.

As you can see, I have included more than ten. If I had to eliminate four, I suppose I would. But my real life is not a dream. I can keep as many as I choose. And I choose to keep these, and many more. I choose to ignore those things in my past which do not bring me joy. I choose to wipe out, to the best of my ability, those things that make me feel sad, lonely, betrayed, hurt, confused, rejected, afraid. I choose to focus on the lovely, the pure, the good, the right. And I choose to spend the rest of my days making many, many more lovely experiences—filling not just a chip, but volumes and volumes with those things which are worthy of being remembered.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” (Phil. 4:8 NIV).