My grandmother said that as the years go by you tend to remember
only the good things of life. Grandma had plenty of bad that she could have
remembered, too, but for her the memories had faded. Dad wasn’t so sure about
his memories. He said he tended to remember the bad. What a difference in
memories and the forgetfulness that sometimes comes with time!
Last night I couldn’t sleep. I heard the heating pipe clunk
as it expanded, the occasional car swish by on the wet street, and then the
rain as it spat on the window pane. Night time is never a good time to rummage
through memories, but I found myself thinking again about the difference between
Grandma and Dad. Was one more right that the other? Grandma was probably more
emotionally healthy and likely to have garnered approval from modern day counsellors.
But was Dad wrong or just different?
Honestly, I’ll have to confess I take more after my father. And,
as I cautiously panned through a few sad times last night, the old question “Why?”
popped up. I’m tired of that question. It’s not only wearisome, it’s annoying and
pointless in many ways. I have general answers for my “whys” and few specifics.
And those specifics are really what I want.
So I left “why” alone and refocused on the rain, cold and
menacing, as it hit the window pane just five feet away. That’s all that
separated me from the rainy, chilly night—five feet and a wall. I burrowed
further under the covers. Some people, I reminded myself, had nothing. Yet I
had the protection of that wall.
Then, in the early hours of the morning, as “why” still
lingered off stage in my thoughts and Dad’s and Grandma’s approaches to life
hovered nearby, Psalm 14:5 stepped into the spotlight: But I trust in your unfailing
love: my heart rejoices in your salvation (NIV).
It could be cold and rainy outside, but just as the wall
shielded me from the brutality of the weather, so God’s unfailing love had and
would surround me in the difficulties of my life. Whether they faded or stayed
in the forefront of my memories was less important than that I trust in the unfailing
love of God that insulates my life in and out of the bad things. It’s constant,
like the walls of my house have been for the twenty years I have lived in it.
Finally, I went to sleep. I still remember some of the
memories that crossed my mind last night, but the sweet promise of God’s
unfailing love is on center stage.
No comments:
Post a Comment