It’s about time you wrote. (Ha ha! Inside joke!)
(Imagine that) I’m writing this from a coffee table which actually fits me to function like a desk. I’m wearing one of Pa’s neckties, which he knotted into a classic Windsor because he hasn’t taught me to do it myself yet, and Clark Kent-inspired reading glasses; well, the frames only, the lenses somehow popped out. I’m using a yellow legal pad and years away from realizing that I don’t understand standard ink pens or lined paper. Clearly, we have a predisposition toward clerical activity and correspondence.
Now that I set the scene (and I’m so glad we don’t do small talk), I’ll jump right in.
Let. It. Go.
My gift to you was releasing nonsense as it happened. My focus was always on the brighter horizon ahead and was intent to get there. Then you started feeling responsible for what was behind us. Consider that true responsibility and being made to feel responsible are very different concepts. And only one comes from God.
You’re stuck trying to dig up memories that were not meant to last. You’re beside yourself because there wasn’t anything more to remember. You try so hard. Can you try trusting harder?
Try stitching together what you do see (in your memory) and recognize God preserved that, as fragmented as it is, so you can have Him now.
Yes, memories are missing. God, our Father, wants to give us good, lovely, and beautiful. The missing memories are a blessing, because the realest are yet to come. And there’s a lot of space to fill.
Believe for it. After all, that’s what we do. Oh, and write back soon!
