Memory

   "Let all that I am praise the Lord." Psalm 104:35

  We all have memories that are seared on our consciousness; the kind that a fragrance will immediately bring to mind. It could be a song, a sound, a word that ignites the fires of memory and transports you through time to that exact moment. 

  Thank You, Lord for this gift even when the memories are painful.

  I keep being told that I mis-remember events so today this needs to get kicked to the curb because it is wrong on so many levels. It puts me in the place of second guessing and doubt that the life I have lived isn't what I think it is. Am I really insane? Yah...no...not one bit.

  My father had a hammer, an Estwing. While I needed to search out the manufacturer this morning, the rest is in my head.

  The hammer had been in service for a long time and had helped build many things. It had a leather bound handle which wrapped it in multi-colour stripes of cream and tan and burnt umber. In places, the leather had started to fray. The leather varnish was worn down to a dull matte finish where my dad's hand had held it. Touches of rust, dark chocolate against the steel head made the steel seem even shinier. Except where a multitude of scratches and dings etched the surface.

  I held it often. It's the one he would give me when I was given the task of straightening bent nails, a job a little girl could do without risking life or limb.

   Whenever there's a need to illustrate a hammer, this is the one that comes to mind. Remembering the hammer brings a ghostly, sweet fragrance of freshly cut wood into my nostrils. The memory smell is accented with the perfume of warm leather and my dad's aftershave.

  I draw many different things without needing to use a photo reference. Post card memories of countless mundane items are always readily available and can be accessed by my mind as needed. It's wonderful and amazing to be able to close my eyes for a brief moment and pull up a mental picture of anything from an apple to a zebra.

  It helps with writing, too, because these same postcards are an inspiration to paint pictures with words.

  If I can remember so much that seems of little importance, it's reassuring to believe I can remember the big events in the way they unfolded. 

  The Lord saw fit to enable me to remember life events in as great a detail as the hammer, if not even more intensely. Sometimes, this seemed more of a curse because there are things I wish I didn't remember. He has redeemed many of them because long ago I learned to sit in the discomfort and search for His presence. He has always revealed Himself to me.

  If I didn't remember events that happened, I wouldn't have found the healing His presence brought to some very deep wounds. I wouldn't have discovered that these dark events are able to bring me comfort now.

  Being told I mis-remember is the same as calling me a liar. 

  But why would someone say this? Why would I even want to make this stuff up?

  Is it maybe because they don't want to believe so it's easier to discredit the truth bearer?

  Lord, this has to be given over to you because You know their heart. I don't.

 

  I have no idea what causes them to point the finger at my "mis-remembering." And, even though it hurts deeply, my Lord will help with finding the grace to forgive them. I can also ask the Lord for help in being discrete about what is shared with someone who is unable or unwilling to believe what I have to say.

  He has put others in my life who believe me without question. People who resect my feelings without judgement. People who have helped me learn to trust this brain of mine because it is a marvelous, wonderful, amazing piece of equipment with one heck of a memory bank!