And Esau said, Behold, I am at the point to die: and what profit shall this birthright do to me?
Surveying the old home place I ponder,"Does anything have sentimental value to anyone anymore?" Anything tears up like an old tv, vcr, or any other electronic device, we throw it out and buy a new one. A house that is not brand new is not worth living in. If its old, its outdated. We want it bigger, faster, and better than the original.
When did we loose our taste for heirlooms or things passed down from generation to generation?
Unless it has some kind of monetary value to it, we don't want it. We discard them among that day's garbage.
Have we become so haughty that we no longer appreciate the simple things of the past? A trinket, a locket, a hope chest, these things have no value to others unless layered with gold but retain a sentimental value to the few.
What is sentimental value, and what gives it meaning? The memories that are invoked from the object brings out its true value to the owner.
For example, the old home place where one was raised. Even if the house is long gone, everything brings thoughts of the past. Carefree days in summer spent underneath the towering shade tree. It's branches stretching forth to cover the hot sun from your reddened neck. There it stands as a reminder of the conversations had with your parents underneath it. Pouring your heart out over life's troubles as you sat in the swing beneath it.
Glancing back you shut your eyes, and see your mother calling you in after playing in the snow. Hands and feet frozen, her there to give you hot chocolate to drink.
Listening to the rustle of leaves through the trees, you can almost hear the sound of your dad's approaching car. For a moment, you can feel his outstretched arms as he picks you up in the air. Your feet lift off the ground as he spins you around. Looking up, you think that you can fly to the top of the tree, right up into the sky.
Laughter fills your ears of siblings as you once were. Playing chase in the yard as you run until you collapse underneath the mighty cedar. Lying on your back with them you look at the clouds. Hours is spent talking about the various shapes you can make out.
Mostly, is the longing for the way things use to be, when love was all that your family could afford.
Now you stand grown, aged by the years. Nothing ever remains the same it seems. Families move away, busy with their own lives. Cousins once playmates, drift away. There is isn't anything time hasn't touched. All remains is an old cedar, shade tree. Beaten by the elements, and neglected. The land surrounding it has been sold off by the inheritors to be developed or chopped up piece by piece. All that remains is one lone spot of a tree that once enjoyed picnics underneath it.
And lastly, it is sold. The stories of the past are soon forgotten with the passing of the mantle. Like Esau, he discarded his inheritance for a bowl of soup. His birthright was treated by him as nothing." What value is it to me if I'm hungry?" was his exclamation.
We disregard sentimental value by trashing it or making a quick buck off it, if we can.
There will come a time, when you will want to pass something on to your children.. You will look at them and want them to honor something you hold valuable. And they're answer will sadly be,"What value is it to me?"