I usually forget really embarrassing things like people's names, immediately after I meet them. And then I am made even more socially awkward the next time we meet, as I am forced to call she or he "buddy", "pal", or "dude." It's just unpleasant for everyone involved.
But what really frustrates me, is that I have forgotten so many funny stories. So many life-changing thoughts. So many feel-good moments have simply been lost...
My memories are gone. This is horrible.
However, today something really neat happened.
I was taking a dangerously hot shower, which was partly in response to the fact that our house is a brisk 50 degrees (result of poor college kid status), but mostly because I love showers that almost scald me.
Anyways, I was singing in the shower, as everyone should, and I had a lot of thoughts running through my mind...
I was switching back and forth from my favorite old hymn, "Come thou fount", and Ben Harper's "With my own two hands." These songs have been on my mind for the last couple of weeks...and I was kinda jumping back and forth from one to the other...
"I can make peace on earth...With my own two hands.
I can clean up the earth...With my own two hands.
I can reach out to you...With my own two hands.
With my own, With my own two hands."
"O to grace how great a debtor
daily I'm constrained to be!
Let thy goodness, like a fetter,
bind my wandering heart to thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
prone to leave the God I love;
here's my heart, O take and seal it,
seal it for thy courts above."
These beautiful songs became personal. I was suddenly thinking about my "wandering", my "heart", my "hands". Next thing you know, memories are floating around my head...
One really vivid memory of my childhood is that of my father pushing me on our swing set. He built the swing set in our back yard. I loved that swing set. Even more, I loved being pushed by my father. He would hold tight at first, pulling me back. Then, with a burst of speed, push me high into the air...flying free, yet still safe and secure because my father was there...
Although, not my unique idea, I picture God as my Father. I understand God in comparison to the relationship I have with my father. He holds me tight. He pushes me beyond where I would otherwise go. And he is always there.
Swinging through life...
One really vivid memory of my childhood is that of my father pushing me on our swing set. He built the swing set in our back yard. I loved that swing set. Even more, I loved being pushed by my father. He would hold tight at first, pulling me back. Then, with a burst of speed, push me high into the air...flying free, yet still safe and secure because my father was there...
Although, not my unique idea, I picture God as my Father. I understand God in comparison to the relationship I have with my father. He holds me tight. He pushes me beyond where I would otherwise go. And he is always there.
Swinging through life...
I found a memory, or maybe it found me. Either way, I am different because of it.
