Day 190
This past Saturday, on a porch over looking a mesmerizing lake, memories flooded me like a refreshing fall of water. I am blessed. Memories can either wander leisurely into your life or barge through the door like an unwanted guest. My memories are my friends, the good ones outweigh the sad. But for many, memories are their tormenters. They hunt them down, push them into a dark corner frightening them with sights and smells of a different place and time they have no want to remember.
You and I, the privileged, the underserved (please understand the undeserved part), whose memories are friends, we are required, by love's law, to be as sensitive as a feather. There is no judgment we are required to use as a hammer. We are asked to wander after the One whose love pours out for the tormented, pours out for the underprivileged, pours out for those in grief, and who has an extreme desire for the hunted to be found and loved.
As we follow the lover we are to love likewise. He ask us to do what He does, to say what He says and it is always consistent with love. Try not to be fooled by those who pedal the "tough love" mantra. This has been used for much evil in christianity. It continues to happen in all of our communities around the world. Very sad memories are created by this philosophy which too often masks a hidden, selfish agenda. Don't be fooled, Jesus stoops. (Jn 8:1-11)
We all have triggers. For some their triggers cause unnatural and unpleasant reactions forcing people to step away. For others the triggers are pleasant luring people to come closer. They say money separates the haves from the have nots. Are you kidding? Haves and have nots are separated by memories! Compared to solid, loving, and refreshing memories, money is easy to obtain.
Later that afternoon, after the porch insight, Betty introduced me to Bobbi. Betty started to tear as she gave me background to Bobbi's history. At age fourteen Bobbi's mother suddenly died, her father remarried and Bobbi's stepmom threw her on the streets. Bobbi's father was not her defender. (my details are fuzzy but the story is still way too sad) The former camp owner of the beautiful property had allowed her to live in his home while two very dear staff members, Avis and Jerry, a dynamic team of women, mentored and raised Bobbi.
My tears escaped. "Bobbi, God talked to me about you this morning. You are one of the ones with memories that have the power to stalk and bring you sadness." She comforted me as I was hugging her and crying. Our God, whose love restores, is a redeemer of memories. Memories are painful and only God can redeem and restore them. He then uses them to bless, counsel and comfort others. A meadow of grace is where He brings us, a place to rejuvenate and energize our memories for His glory.
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