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BaldyThis afternoon we celebrated my brother-in-law Bervin’s birthday with a lunchtime party. Between plates of pot roast and birthday cake, Klaus posed an interesting question to Bervin’s grandchildren Ruby (4) and Beck (6). They’d been focusing on Emerald, who is close-to-bald at 9 months, wondering when she would get a decent head of hair.

Klaus said, “Ruby, you were a bald baby like that, too. What’s your favorite memory from that time?”

Ruby looked at him with a blank stare and couldn’t respond. But when Birgitta said, “Probably that you didn’t have to comb your hair every day,” she smiled. “All I did was ride around in a car seat,” she said.

Beck and Ruby

Beck, answering the same question said, “I remember that I didn’t have to do anything.” Of course their answers were fabricated, since neither one of them could remember being a baby.

Most peoples’ earliest memories are from the time they were 2 or 3 years old, but God doesn’t let us remember all the way back to zero. Maybe he doesn’t want us recalling the misery of birth, and every woman who’s ever delivered a baby would call that wisdom.

Baby brain

More likely we can’t recollect babyhood because the memory parts of our brains aren’t fully developed then. Babies don’t have language, either, to describe their experiences. Nevertheless God endowed each one with a complicated brain, all set to go. On most days we take this incredible gift for granted.

What about the brain(s) of the Trinity? Since Jesus was fully human, surely he had a brain much like ours. But what about his divine brain?

Although we forget nearly everything that happens in our first two years and tend to forget even adult memories if we live long enough, God never forgets a thing. Putting him into a memory grid of forgetting and remembering, though, is humanizing the divine. He knows everything about everything, and we believe that. But then what are we to do with the Scripture that says he “forgets our sins” once they’re confessed?

He actually says it 3 times (in both Old and New Testaments). Does this simply mean he voluntarily decides not to remind us or nag us about our past sins after we’ve repented of them?

Maybe it’s something even better than that.

Maybe he literally wills himself to forgetfulness and “remembers our sins no more” (as the Bible says) to make our forgiveness absolutely thorough. And then if Satan should come before him to accuse us, he can honestly say, “No…. I don’t have any memory of Margaret committing that sin. She’s clean on that one” (because of Jesus).

This possibility gives me goose bumps and inspires me to keep short accounts with God. And maybe his forgetting our sins isn’t that much different than Ruby and Beck forgetting what it was like to be babies…

…none of them have any memory of it.

“I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.” (Hebrews 8:12)

Saved

Car albumThis afternoon Emerald directed my attention to a family scrapbook I hadn’t viewed in a while, a photo album with the title “Memory Lane.” Her baby abilities have been on the increase lately, and her “sticky fingers” are grabbing with greater efficiency. This scrapbook, stored on a bottom shelf, was her newest conquest.

After she’d perused C.S.Lewis and “The Problem of Pain,” she ooched left, swiveled, and grabbed “Memory Lane,” ripping out the inscription page and the first page of photos before anyone noticed. Normally this wouldn’t bother me, since many of my possessions have been similarly “loved” by grandchild-hands. But this album was a gift to Nate from me, and I wanted to keep it nice.

The bigger car, 1971Over 30 years of time, I’d collected pictures of all the cars we’d ever owned as a couple, along with a few my parents had owned. There’s Nate’s first car, my first car, and every car after that, including the multiple “low budget” cars of 7 driving children. The album has 71 vehicles pictured…. so far.

As I secretly tucked away photos over the years, I always knew they would one day be a special surprise for Nate. But it was tricky deciding when to give the scrapbook, since additional cars were always being added. Then finally I couldn’t wait any longer to see his reaction and decided to give it on his birthday in August, 2009. It must have been God prompting me, because that was his last birthday.

Last birthdayAlthough he didn’t feel good that evening, he loved his gift and praised me for the effort behind it. The very next week we learned (after a physical exam) that something was “off” in his blood numbers, and further tests were ordered. Within a month of that birthday party, we’d heard the words “terminal pancreatic cancer,” and 2½ months after he turned 64, he was gone.

Today when the album suffered at Emerald’s hands, it went against me. Something about keeping that scrapbook in good shape seemed to help keep my connection with Nate in good shape.

Inscription pageNot that a simple photo album can bridge the massive gap between earth and heaven. But just seeing my written greeting to him on the front page remains a link between the two of us, at least for me (though surely no longer for him).  We are approaching the 4 year mark from his death, and with time I find it more and more difficult to stay connected to him.

I believe God gently supplies potent reminders of our relationships with loved ones who’ve passed away (like the car album’s appearance today) as instruments of healing. People who’ve experienced loss want to reaffirm (again and again) that their bond with that person is still strong. Gifts from the past, both given and received, help do that.

And so, when Louisa saw the damage to Nate’s scrapbook, she quickly devised a solution, removing some of the photos, gluing them elsewhere, trimming the inscription page, pasting it over something else, and voila! The revised scrapbook is almost as good as new.

And as of today, it’s found a new home on a very high shelf.

“The Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

Dirty Feet

This weekend while I was on duty with Emerald, she and Jack assisted me with some yard work. I can’t say who was the greatest helper, but both added a special something.

Yard work helpersJack stood guard (er… sat guard) and Emerald provided the sound track, giggling and squealing over her discoveries: shriveled leaves, broken twigs, acorns, garden rocks. We didn’t accomplish a whole lot but did enjoy a satisfying hour together.

I couldn’t help but notice the baby’s beautiful skin against the rough ground and especially her sweet little feet, so soft and (so far) of very little use. But what struck me most on our gardening day was that her feet got dirty for the very first time.

Dirty feet.Sitting in the ivy, swiveling this way and that, her feet repeatedly rubbed against the soil, getting filthy. Her toenails had never had dirt under them before, and both Birgitta and I have loved kissing those clean feet to get her giggling. After our yard work, her feet looked like the rest of ours, and it wasn’t a good look for her.

I looked at my own feet, knowing they don’t look really clean even after they’ve been washed. And then I thought of Jesus, who washed the dirty feet of his 12 main men, despite most of them being old, worn out feet, probably gnarly, stained, and ugly.

The reason he did it was twofold: (1) to demonstrate the importance of humility, hoping the men would one day follow his example with others; and (2) to let them know that humbling themselves would bring blessing back to them.

SNM128510It wasn’t easy for Jesus to do what he did with the disciples’ feet that night, especially with his thoughts so focused on the excruciating hours of torture immediately ahead. But this last lesson from Master to students was important enough that not even the closeness of the crucifixion could dissuade him, which is why it’s such an important lesson for the rest of us, too.

As I sat Emerald on the edge of the kitchen sink to wash her feet, God gave me a sweet thought: “Emerald could be literally painted in mud, and you wouldn’t love her any less, would you?”

Jesus washed 24 big, smelly feet (including those of his betrayer) with a humility that verified a love so great, it can’t be explained. Though I’ll never be able to love to that depth, I can stand in awe of his great love, and think about that night when the Master put himself beneath his servants to make an incredibly important point: to humble oneself is to show love.

Jesus said, “Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.(John 13:16-17)

“In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us.” (1 John 4:10)