Forgetfulness

Why is it that I can remember when I fell and scraped my knee while on the way to my friend Sandy's house when I was five, but I can't remember why I walked from the bedroom into the kitchen?


Why is it that I can remember how I felt when my sixth grade teacher wrongly accused me of cheating, but I can't remember where I put my purse?


Why is it that I can remember how lonely I felt when my college roommate went home for the year, but I can't remember why I stopped at Walgreen's?


Why is it that I can remember the pain of a dislocated hip and the horrible incompetence surrounding my care, but I can't remember a simple word when it is on the tip of my tongue?


Why is it that I can remember how I felt when my children didn't get along, but I can't remember which street I meant to turn onto?




Of course there is that short-term memory thing all of us Baby Boomers are becoming too familiar with, but there is more to it than that.


Oh how I wish I could choose what to remember and what to forget.

I would not hold onto all of those painful experiences any more if I could just wish them away.

And of course, I would remember where I put my keys so as not to become frustrated with myself for being so stupid.

But life isn't like that is it? Memories of hurts tend to stay with us. But I suppose what is important is how we handle those thoughts that haunt us.

If someone has wronged me, I eventually get to that place of forgiveness, but I think God lets me remember the situation so I can grow in wisdom.

And, as for looking for the keys--God must certainly be teaching me patience.

Where am I going with the thoughts in my blog today? Oh, you see, I have already forgotten...


...bless you for remembering to read my wanderings and my wonderings.

...and bless you for remembering to remember me with love just the same as I remember you.