Our minds are harbors, you know. Ships of ideas dock for seasons, some staying just til the next day like grocery lists and where we hide our car keys and how much we need to set aside for student loan payments and what it means to whisper thank you to God every morning. Sometimes they linger long into the winter and shore up tight - this idea of gratitude or joy or the hidden wonder of just about everything.
And more than anything I want my mind and heart to harbor long the good things and to let the others float away, set sail for forgetting. How long have I harbored grudges long past their time for departure? I remind and remember and retell the stories, the ones about woundedness, the ones chock full of memories that bite and burn and why? Because I'm afraid to know what might happen if I forget my story.
But then I remember this other wonderful thing that happens when the good thoughts linger long into the seasons of life: after all, the story is written by One who forgets nothing. And it makes me want to shout and dance and laugh til milk comes out my nose because I don't need to scrawl memories of hard things anymore, I can draw in pink and orange chalk the stories about His wonderful love and His faithfulness and His love? I can just write that story and let the cool summer rain wash away all the things I never needed to remember or harbor?
And that is the most beautiful thing to remember.