My daughter and I enjoy looking over old photographs. When she was younger. When I was younger. Our memories are strong for those joyous times…the first bike ride, the first words “daddy,” the first day of school. Infant photos. Toddler photos. As her father, I remember them well. A simple glimpse of old photos allow us to fully enjoy moments from the past.

We are collectors. Passionate collectors. Collectors of things, items, possessions that will remain here. On earth. Our passion goes to the “nth” degree. During the holidays, I received a catalog of potential collections. We all get them. Catalogs of items that we “want,” but don’t need. Material possessions.

I miss receiving my cashed checks. In the good old days, before online banking and electronic bill pay, we received a collection of checks written over the past 30 days with our monthly bank statement. Physical checks showing that they had been cashed and the funds had been received. It was basically a history of our past actions. Concrete evidence of our life’s transactions.

What must it have been like? The beginning. The start. The inception. The origin of the Church. Can anyone really trace the first moments? The church that grew out of those first days following Christ’s sacrifice. Those first few months following Jesus’ death and resurrection. Historians have. We could.

I wonder what became of those travel companions. Those that heard but did not see. Those that saw their mentor, their hero, fall blind. I'm no historical expert. I bet if I researched it enough, I could find theories as to who they were, what became of them. Paul's road buddies. His roadies.