I like to remember. well, the good things. golden memories dance around my head. Pictures float through my consciousness often. And if they didn’t, I just open up the photos on my computer and walk through memory lane again. Other memories are so vivid it is as though they just happened moments ago. I get flash backs. I’ll be going through my day, and then something sparks and instantly I am once again walking through a jungle of banana forests. It’s so real, so intense I can feel the sunshine streaming through the canopy of leaves above me. but it lasts only a split second. and then, here I am, still in Whatcom County. Usually sitting at a desk in front of a computer.
One of my good friends from my days in Uganda who I spent most of my time with, is often surprised at my memory. I’ll say, “remember when.......” and he’ll laugh and reply, “how do you remember that?!” I just shrug and smile.
It’s amazing how great it is to remember where we’ve been and how far we’ve come. Nearly two years ago, I walked through the hardest and most painful time of my life. I was shattered. and devastated. my heart felt as though it had been dipped in liquid nitrogen and thrown on the floor- smashed into a thousand pieces. I was bleeding and oozing emotionally. I was awash in a sea of icy-cold fear and choking depression. I would have kept God at arms-length holding Him responsible for my current circumstances, except that He felt millions of miles away already. the Bible felt irrelevant. I was indifferent towards sermons. honestly the only thing that really kept me coming back to church were our times of worship. The time of singing somehow opened the door to my soul, and only then for those 15 or 20 minutes did I feel safe and sure that God really was who He said He was. And that He’d actually redeem the deep sorrow of my soul.
a few more moths of misery dragged by and in January ‘08 I was given the opportunity to visit some of my best friends. Incredible people who knew the deep pain I was wrestling with and a couple of whom carried the same pain themselves. Oh the joy and relief of being with people who understood! It simply cannot be put into words. At that point, I was still deeply impacted by the trauma. I wasn’t able to sleep through the night for nearly a year. I would wake up with horrible nightmares, and flashbacks so real they sent adrenaline coursing through my veins. I have a very vivid memory of a horrendous sleepless night while visiting my friends last year. when I walked into the room just a couple weeks ago, it was just as fresh as if it happened the day before. That doesn’t sound like something great to remember, but hang with me, because it gets so much better. While I was there a year ago, barely surviving emotionally, I was surrounded by deep and tender love which again reminded me of the goodness of God, that is always. Again, I had some incredible times of worship, where God was somehow once again near. That room where I get to stay, has a chalkboard wall. And on it I wrote the verse that God spoke to me, in faith. It wasn’t true for me anymore. But I needed to believe that it could be.
It is still there. And seeing it again, a year later was an incredible reminder of just how far my heart had come. Over this last year, it’s been a long, slow road to healing. but it has come. It’s been a long journey, out of a valley so deep that the sky was rarely visible. It was a pitch black winding road through icy dampness. but it has lead slowly and steadily upwards. And as I keep walking the road, I find myself out in the open meadows. The sun is bright and warm, the air fresh and warm and the mountain peaks are not only visible, but near. And I can now look at that verse and see how it is true. How the joy has returned to my life.
It is this that makes me want to remember. When I look back and truly see the depth of despair that i have been rescued from, I am amazed and in awe of my Rescuer. And that moves me to worship- to declare His worth and his glory!
