Imprints

I just finished reading a book for one of my book clubs.

It was set in Virginia right before the civil war.

The main character (narrator) was raised by her wet nurse who was a slave.

As the book goes on, it is easy to see how this character's choices are clearly affected by the one who truly "mothered" her.

Someone asked the question if we had someone like that who we remembered from when we were being raised.

I immediately thought of my favorite babysitter, Sassy.

Her name is actually Leslie and I'm not sure why she is so memorable to me.

But, I still think of her fondly and often.

Then, the other day I was thinking about my seminary class.

The one that I substitute taught more than any others at the beginning of the school year.

Even though they had their regular teacher more than me, I consider them mine.

And I know that some of them consider me their teacher also.

They are imprinted on my mind.

And because I was there for their first couple of days, I was imprinted on theirs.

Imprints.

Do I take the time to remember the imprint that my Heavenly Father and Mother have on me.

Like William Wordsworth famously said, 

"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;

The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,

          Hath had elsewhere its setting

               And cometh from afar;

          Not in entire forgetfulness,

          And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come 

               From God, who is our home:

Heaven lies about us in our infancy!"