Memorial Day

I’m not great at remembering.

It’s not that I don’t want to remember. It’s just that I don’t.

I tell myself I’m never going to forget – a moment, a person, a feeling, a day.

I take pictures. I fill pages of diaries. I write poems trying to capture it. But I still find myself forgetting.

I forget important things like how bad I felt when I made that wrong choice. Or how relieved I was when I knew God was still near. I forget the nearness of His word when I need it the most. I forget the times that He’s delivered me in the past. I forget so easily things that matter so deeply.

I forget the feeling of the sun on my face, and walking out of the airport to the comfort of home. I forget the day after 9/11 and how scared I was. I forget the quiet of a plane right before it detonates. I forget the joy in the faces of children waiting for more, and the heat of a night under nets in the jungle.

I want to remember things like surrender and rest and words whispered quietly in the still of my heart – words of direction and promise of things that will come.

I want to remember the fullness of a warm summer night, when deep in my heart it felt like enough.

I want to remember the tears on my face, the beat of my heart, when God felt so near. I want to remember the innocence of youth when dreams filled my mind and anything was possible.

I want to remember today – the bristle of  leaves over sound of the birds after warm summer rains. I want to remember the quiet of my house and hours spent remembering.

I don’t want to forget the price that it takes, the sacrifices made, the questions that darken the distant horizon. I don’t want to forget the hope that withstands the greatest of doubts, the presence that sustains the darkest of fears, the peace that engulfs the longest of roads.

Today is a day of remembrance. I want to remember – forever.

Related posts: