When your daily activities are in concert with your highest priorities, you have a credible claim to inner peace. – Hyrum Smith



I want to remember.

There are so many times I shut my eyes tight and will my brain to capture a certain moment. Maddie, wearing only a diaper and a grin with ice cream dripping down her pointed little chin. Parker, hoeing in the garden, whispering words of encouragement to his tiny pumpkin sprout. Aaron, hungry for dinner, but willing to hold both kids at the table while they eat because they missed him so much all day. Cooking s'mores. Dancing in circles. Singing silly songs. The curls at the nape of Maddie's neck. The way Parker says, "sank you" instead of "thank you" because he can't quite make that "th" combination yet.

My fear of forgetting is so intense sometimes it brings me to tears. All of these little moments, important to no one else, make up the best parts of my world. I am so grateful for this blog. Perhaps one day when I am old and gray and my memory fails me, the kids can read it aloud to me, and I will remember.

I think of my friend, Joanie. Her mother had Alzheimer's. When Joanie first realized her mother was having difficulty with her memory, she taped her mom telling favorite family stories. Later, when the disease had progressed to the point where her mother barely remembered who her daughter was, Joanie would bring in the tapes and play them for her mom, who would smile and nod as she listened to the now strange voice recalling precious memories.

We lost our dear Aunt Carol this week to Alzheimer's. My sister-in-law, Natalie, and I had the honor of sorting through family photos and creating collages to place around the funeral home. She was so beautiful. Full of grace. Funny, loving, special. That was Carol.

Thank you, Lord, for recording our every moment, for holding all of our tears.
Psalm 56:8 You number and record our wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle -- are they not in Your book?

No comments:

Post a Comment