Short-Term Memory Loss
Fall is the best time of year. I won't listen to any objections about this; it just is. It's sunny and crisp and revitalized and cozy. Driving long distances seems more like a hobby than drudgery, with the windows cracked and new music on the radio and the peaceful feeling of knowing things are slowing down for the winter.
In the fall I am much more aware of beauty, but I can't explain why. The smells of cinnamon and pumpkin, the sight of candles burning, the feel of soft sweaters and the still-slightly-warm sun...everything catches my attention in a way that's so different from other times of year. But the thing that grabs me most often in autumn is the colors on the trees.
The yellow ones. You know, the ones you just stare at because you can't believe they're that yellow?
I run by them and under them. And I look up into them and almost can't take it in, because when I look away again I never remember quite how yellow they are.
And so every tree has to remind me when I look up into it, again. I can't picture it once I look away. I think I have short-term memory loss.
There are times when people compliment me. They'll tell me I wrote a great paper, or ran a great race, or look beautiful in that dress. And let's be real, I'm a #1 on the Enneagram and my love language is "words of affirmation," so yes, I love it. But it's the craziest thing, because I'll thank them in those moments and smile, look away, and forget.
It's almost like I can't take it in. I can't hold onto compliments very long. And I guess that's why good husbands remind their wives they're beautiful every day - because we women forget.
The Hebrew Bible talks a lot about forgetting. Forgetting the good things, the important things. It's easy to remember the bad stuff, isn't it? Easy to remember we are fallen and sinful and unworthy. But it's not as easy to remember the covenant God made with us, or the time Jesus broke bread and gave it to his disciples, ushering in an age of grace and promising them the Feast of the Lamb was coming. It's not easy for us to remember God always winning our battles for us in the past, always placing us at the table with honor, always lavishing us with good things right on through our suffering.
If it was easy to remember, the Israelites wouldn't have needed the feasts, festivals, holy days, Scriptures. They wouldn't have needed the rainbows, the jars of manna from the desert, the Songs of Ascent, the recitations of the Shema. Today I am just as forgetful, and I need Scripture too. I need songs too, and candlelight services and communion with my church family, and Christmas holidays. I need God to remind me how yellow he can make the trees in the fall, and how good life can be when you crack the windows and take a roadtrip. I need God to tell me I'm beautiful again and again because I cannot believe it otherwise. I need God to tell me through other people, too. And I need to be reminded of the fact that I am hidden with God in Christ, no matter what, forever.
He will always win our battles for us. We need only be still. He will always make the trees yellow in fall. We can look as many times as we want. And although I pray we will develop our memory a little better, it doesn't matter in the end, because when we see Jesus face to face we won't need our memories.
We will only need our eyes.
In the fall I am much more aware of beauty, but I can't explain why. The smells of cinnamon and pumpkin, the sight of candles burning, the feel of soft sweaters and the still-slightly-warm sun...everything catches my attention in a way that's so different from other times of year. But the thing that grabs me most often in autumn is the colors on the trees.
The yellow ones. You know, the ones you just stare at because you can't believe they're that yellow?
I run by them and under them. And I look up into them and almost can't take it in, because when I look away again I never remember quite how yellow they are.
And so every tree has to remind me when I look up into it, again. I can't picture it once I look away. I think I have short-term memory loss.
There are times when people compliment me. They'll tell me I wrote a great paper, or ran a great race, or look beautiful in that dress. And let's be real, I'm a #1 on the Enneagram and my love language is "words of affirmation," so yes, I love it. But it's the craziest thing, because I'll thank them in those moments and smile, look away, and forget.
It's almost like I can't take it in. I can't hold onto compliments very long. And I guess that's why good husbands remind their wives they're beautiful every day - because we women forget.
The Hebrew Bible talks a lot about forgetting. Forgetting the good things, the important things. It's easy to remember the bad stuff, isn't it? Easy to remember we are fallen and sinful and unworthy. But it's not as easy to remember the covenant God made with us, or the time Jesus broke bread and gave it to his disciples, ushering in an age of grace and promising them the Feast of the Lamb was coming. It's not easy for us to remember God always winning our battles for us in the past, always placing us at the table with honor, always lavishing us with good things right on through our suffering.
If it was easy to remember, the Israelites wouldn't have needed the feasts, festivals, holy days, Scriptures. They wouldn't have needed the rainbows, the jars of manna from the desert, the Songs of Ascent, the recitations of the Shema. Today I am just as forgetful, and I need Scripture too. I need songs too, and candlelight services and communion with my church family, and Christmas holidays. I need God to remind me how yellow he can make the trees in the fall, and how good life can be when you crack the windows and take a roadtrip. I need God to tell me I'm beautiful again and again because I cannot believe it otherwise. I need God to tell me through other people, too. And I need to be reminded of the fact that I am hidden with God in Christ, no matter what, forever.
He will always win our battles for us. We need only be still. He will always make the trees yellow in fall. We can look as many times as we want. And although I pray we will develop our memory a little better, it doesn't matter in the end, because when we see Jesus face to face we won't need our memories.
We will only need our eyes.
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