Remember to Forget

I've never been the brightest bulb.

I can't recall anyone complimenting me on my 'street smarts.' 

But I have usually been graced enough to be surrounded by people who are pretty sharp so as to compensate for my.....ahem....foggy brain.

But there is one mental faculty that I am awesome at.

Forgetting.

I forget better than anyone I know.  If it didn't happen last week then I don't remember it. 

And I have improved this fine art as the years (and the babies) have come along. 

I admit it would be nice to reminisce on days and holidays gone by with family.  Or to be able to tell the children about how I met their father.  But it ain't happening.  At least it isn't happening in such great detail. 

Sometimes my forgetfulness is more than a nuisance.  It feels like a burden.  One of the few things we can into the future are the memories of the past. And though I try to be intentional about making these memories with the ones I love, I am honestly sad that I struggle to remember some of them. 

But I am learning there are ways around my forgetfulness.  Lots of picture taking and journaling.  Having the kids tell me stories of how we celebrated or trips we went on.  This helps jog the ol' foggy brain.

And then I thought of this.

Forgetting.  It might not be all  bad.  In fact, we are called to forget.  His Letter to us tells us that over and over. 

We are to forget the old expectations and way of living.

“Forget the former things;

do not dwell on the past.

See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the desert

and streams in the wasteland."

Isaiah 43:18-19

 

 

To forget the wordly ambitions and trophies we run to.

 

 

 

Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 2:13-14

 

 

 

To forget ourselves.

 

 

If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care— then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don’t push your way to the front; don’t sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.

Philippians 2:2-4

The Message

But above all I am thankful not only that I CAN forget.  But that the One who made me and knows all my ways chooses to forget.  To remember my sins no more. 

“The time is coming,” declares the Lord,

“when I will make a new covenant

with the house of Israel

and with the house of Judah.

  It will not be like the covenant

I made with their forefathers

when I took them by the hand

to lead them out of Egypt,

because they broke my covenant,

though I was a husband to them,”

declares the Lord.

“This is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel

after that time,” declares the Lord.

“I will put my law in their minds

and write it on their hearts.

I will be their God,

and they will be my people.

No longer will a man teach his neighbor,

or a man his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’

because they will all know me,

from the least of them to the greatest,”

declares the Lord.

“For I will forgive their wickedness

and will remember their sins no more.”

 Jeremiah 31:31-34

That, my friend, is true forgetfulness.  And for this I am most thankful.

Thanksgiving celebrates remembrance.  To be mindful of our blessings and all the grace lavished on us this year and every year.  And this year one of my biggest blessings has been forgetfulness.  To be able to let go of the way I lived before Him, to let go of wrongs done or hurtful words said to me.   To forget myself for the rest of my life.....letting go of any rights I might have to myself.....to receive an eternal reward.

So this year as we gather around our table I am going to try to forget.  Forget myself.  Forgive the hurt. And to relish in the joy and freedom that comes with His ultimate gift of forgetting.

I hope you and your family have a wonderful day of Thanks!

Wound Healing

Yesterday was hard.

Not just the usual mundane hard.  The refereeing, the weight of educating 3 kids that are distracted by this Tazmanian Devil that keeps running around, the reciting of Laundry: The Never Ending Story. 

No, yesterday was different. 

Yesterday would have been my sweet Pawpaw's birthday.  The kids and I took a minute to make him a cake. 

 

 

He was wonderful man and if you want to find out more about him you can read here and here.


Rememberance is always bittersweet.

But yesterday was also hard because I took dinner to a recent widower.  Not just any widower.  My brother-in-law's father.  And not just any brother-in-law. 

I wanted a big brother my whole life.  And when I was 16 he was born.  Right into our family that Sunday afternoon when he married my sister.  And he truly is the brother I always wanted.  He makes me laugh and doesn't let me take myself too seriously and isn't afraid to hug me when I need it and isn't afraid to put me in my place when I need it.  He's sensitive when I'm hurting and loves on my kids almost as if he actually loves them. 

And he is an only child.  And his mom died last week.  And I don't know that pain but I hurt all the hurt I know right there with him.  Him and his dad. 

There is something about widows that tears my heart all up.  The loneliness I see in their eyes or the disorientation they feel without having the other half of their heart there with them.  There aren't really words to describe it.  Except that yesterday was hard. 

I visited with Brother's dad yesterday.  Sat a spell.   We talked grandkids and farming and The Love of His Life.  And then I had to leave.  And I wanted to burst into tears.  Having to leave the Hurting to tend to the wounds himself.  And all I had is this:

He heals the brokenhearted
and binds up their wounds.

Psalm 147:3

 

That's it.  That's all I had.  This simple unyielding hanging on by the skin of my teeth faith in that He came to heal and care for our lethal heart wounds.  No one else can do that.  So I shut the door and swallowed the big lump in my throat and trusted that I wasn't leaving this widow alone, but just leaving him alone with his Great Physician to do a little wound healing.  Painful, slow surgery on a wound that will mend but always leave a scar.

 

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Revelation 21:4

 



 

Superpowers

First a few pix to recap some of the stuff we've been up to.



The kiddos showed up to school Election Day morning dressed to the nines.  They had their stump speeches all ready eager to win my vote. 

Even Michelle Obama came out.  I wonder who she's wearing?

Not to be outdone Baby decided to join in on the campaign as well.

I'm loving that my kids love America.


Speaking of loving this land of ours, we are ushering in Thanksgiving season with a bountiful harvest.  So thankful for this man, his hard work, and the opportunity my Yahoos have in sharing in it.

And now to answer the age old question. ....How many Yahoos CAN  you fit into a combine?

I love looking at these pictures.  This day was a good day.  And I hope every time I look back on them I remember the looks of contentment and satisfaction and joy on everyone's faces.

 

 

 

There is something else I see in these pictures.  There is a look in the Yahoos' eyes.  Do you see it?  It is something deeper than the high from the diesel they're breathing in.  The best word I have for it is awe.  Not in the machinery.  But in the man driving the machine.

Yes, these children are in awe of their father.

 CIA agent by day, driver of large machinery by night. 

If you have had a decent childhood at all, you know what I'm talking about.  Those few moments when you think your parents are superheroes.  For some of us this youthful innocence lasts longer than others.  But eventually the scales fall from our eyes and we see our parents for who they are.  Sinners.  Just like us.

In our home we are in the thick of superhero mode.  These Yahoos of mine can't get enough of their daddy.  Whatever he says....it's truth.  Whatever he does.....it's Nobel Prize worthy.   And though I tell them Every.Single.Day.  the truth about The Honey, they refuse to let go of their fascination of him.  And I am treasuring all these things in my heart.

It seems as if from the moment we emerge from the womb we crave greatness.  We want to be around it.   We are mystified with great athletes, great performers, great thinkers.  We pay a pretty high price to score tickets to our favorite games or concerts.  We aspire to be the best ourselves.  We push ourselves to be at the top.  We go to best schools and position ourselves for promotions.  Yes, even among lowly housewives we desire Top Dog status.  Who can sew the fanciest duds, scrapbook that killer page, bake the best, blog the best, snap that perfect shot the best? 

We are all superhero wannabees.

And then I started thinking......

I wonder what kind of superhero my kids see in me? At the end of the day will the trophies I have won be a blue ribbon pie or 10,000 hits on a blog or well behaved kids.  Will that be all?

True greatness reaches far beyond time and space.  When I think of The Great Ones that came before me it is evident that the trophies they were racing towards were eternal, not temporal.  The race they ran was a quiet one without fanfare or applause.  They were not  The Avengers.  They were a rag tag group of men and women.  They were the  minimum wage earners, the speech impaired, the adulterors, the murderers.  God chose to use these everyday losers and make them into spiritual superheroes. 

 

So now I am trying to redefine my superhero specifications.  Burning the biscuits, not knowing how to start the lawn mower, not remembering the last time I dusted.....these are not my kryptonite.  My superhero status is not defined by how good I am (or usually am not).  I am more than the sum of my parts.


Today I am reminded that my status has already been determined for me.  Way back there.  On the cross.  Jesus took my shame.  He took on my kryptonite and gave me a new name and a cape.

For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

2 Corinthians 5:21

 

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; The old has passed away; behold, the new has come

2 Corinthians 5:17

 

 

And that encourages me.  To know that in My Father's eye I am marked.....forever.....as His.  To know that though this Mama's cape is tattered and torn,  the race that I am running is worth the hard knocks and struggles I face.  And at the end of the day this rag tag nobody from no where will receive that trophy I've been running towards. 

 

 

That is the my  superpower. 

 

 

 

 

 



And The Winner Is.....

So in my very scientific way (in which I put all the names on some paper and The Honey picked a name out) we have now determined the winner of The Birthday Blog Giveaway!


And the winner is.....


Sweet Patricia!


Congrats, Trish. And thanks so much for your great comments and loyal following. You're the best!
I can't wait to get those goodies to you!

Thanks to everyone who commented. I have to say that each and every post I write is my favorite. It has a little piece of me in each one.

Love you guys! Thanks again. And I'm looking forward to seeing where my toddler blog takes me this year.