If Suitcases Could Talk

Three old suitcases, stacked on each other, serve as a sweet little side table nestled between two chairs in my little cottage. They are family keepsakes and I am fond of finding practical uses for meaningful junk.

The top suitcase with the torn leather corners and the leopard duct taped handle belonged to my adopted grandma and oldest mentor. The inside is lined with a striking turquoise satin. When I was three years old, I traveled with her to fish on the Rio Grande. There she taught me my ABC's as she put worms on her fishing hook. Worms she had grown herself on the back of her toilet tank cover,

disguised in a pink talcum powder box. I don’t remember if she took this particular suitcase on that trip. My sentimental side wants to believe she did.  She often fed her great sense of adventure by taking off with her husband in their pickup truck and traveled the southern United States.

The middle one belonged to my maternal grandmother.  It is crafted from rich leather with heavy top stitching on each seam. A metal plate bears the brand name “Amelia Earhart.” 

How cool is that? The only trips Grandma took were occasional visits to relatives.  By the time I was old enough to remember her visits to our house, she had switched from this leather beauty to a 3 piece matching set of 1960’s gold vinyl suitcases. I shared my bedroom with her when she visited, so she would carefully open her suitcase on my bed and begin to unpack.  She usually had a treat of some kind packed among her prescription bottles. She was quick to get unpacked because “I hate living out of a suitcase.”

The suitcase on the bottom earned its place as the foundation of this three-tiered table.  It is the heaviest and sturdiest, a navy blue metal that sports a few dents and dings from its travels.  It belonged to my dad. He bought it in the early sixties when he began a job which took him “outtatown” as mom always called his work trips. He drove long distances to measure corrosion levels on hundreds of miles of natural gas pipelines. Sometimes he returned at the end of the week with a surprise in his metal suitcase.  He loved a good shoe sale and if he encountered one along his travels, someone in the family was going to get a shoe surprise on Friday afternoon.

I stared at these three suitcases today, wondering about the journeys taken by these two generations before me. Where did they go? What did they pack? With whom did they travel? How long did they stay? What did they do? What sights did they see? What spilled and stained the suitcase lining? What travel tales would be told if these suitcases could talk?

Will my grandchildren feel nostalgic someday about my black soft-side rolling TUMI overhead bag?  The one with a built-in hanging garment compartment that endured years of international travel abuse. It’s definitely not cut out to be an attractive side table. But if they run across it in a dusty attic someday, they might wonder about my untold traveling stories.

What I want them to know is not about the places I ventured. Or the interesting things I did. Or what a light packer I became.

What I want them to know is that I couldn’t go anywhere without God coming along. I tried a few times. But even then, I found that He was still with me. Most of the time, I desperately wanted His company on my journey. King David expressed it like this in Psalm 139:1-10 [NLT]:

O LORD, you have examined my heart

and know everything about me.

You know when I sit down or stand up.

You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.

You see me when I travel

and when I rest at home.

You know everything I do.

You know what I am going to say

even before I say it, LORD.

You go before me and follow me.

You place your hand of blessing on my head.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,

too great for me to understand!

I can never escape from your Spirit!

I can never get away from your presence!

If I go up to heaven, you are there;

if I go down to the grave, you are there.

If I ride the wings of the morning,

if I dwell by the farthest oceans,

even there your hand will guide me,

and your strength will support me.

Nope, I haven’t gone one single place on this planet without Him. Not because I was such a brilliant traveling companion but because He is omnipresent. Not because I was so faithful in my devotion to Him, but because He cared so deeply for me. Not because I always asked for His guidance, but because His hand refused to back off from me.

Traveling this life with Jesus. It is, indeed, too much to comprehend. And that’s all I really need the next generations to know about my suitcase and me.