The Thing About Remembering

Tuesday I had the honor of traveling to Centre, Alabama to speak to a great group of women. As I was preparing my talk, I found myself strolling down memory lane in search of photos to illustrate early life with triplets.

As I got to the 18-36 month old pictures I found myself oohing and ahhing. I spent almost two hours, with tears in my eyes reliving memories I had already forgotten. They were not Earth shattering. They were the simple things like sidewalk chalk, finger paints, dress up clothes, playing in piles of leaves, etc. My heart was literally aching at one point as I thought about the feasibility of bringing another child into our family. (That admission is going to open up a can of worms. No teaser here...just random thoughts.)

I have thought about it off and on since then and have been reminded of all the things about that age that were extremely frustrating to me. Namely, my desperate attempts to reason with unreasonable little beings. I don't have pictures of the many moments I spent shedding exhausted and frustrated tears. What I remember are chubby cheeks and fingers, entertaining attempts at words and phrases, the cacophony of giggles and the sweet smell of freshly bathed toddlers.

It is the trouble with remembering you know. Things get distorted over time. Sometimes they are romanticized for the better. Other times they are remembered in a more negative light than the actual reality. Generally speaking, a memory is not the most reliable record of history.

One of the most interesting points from the Exodus study I am participating in, is how the Israelites' memories of their captivity in Egypt were distorted. They grumbled about their current circumstances, feared their future and remembered captivity/slavery in Egypt to be something they longed to return to rather than continuing a difficult journey to a promised, but unknown, destination.

As we read their story now, knowing the outcome, we roll our eyes and criticize their cowardice, poor judgment and lack of faith.. .until I think about some of my own fears about the unknowns in my life and the lives of dear friends. I am convicted that I am like those wandering Israelites. I too often trust my experience more than my God and His promises.

Memories are good things--but rather than looking back and longing for the way things were, may we recognize them as opportunities to celebrate God's faithfulness and move forward to what He has planned for us next.