When We Forget

I went to mow my grandma's house yesterday (and five other lawns...yikes!)  I did the push mower on all of them, so my hands and feet are covered in bandaids from all the blisters.  Now you might think this to be inconvenient, but when you're like me and buy glow-in-the-dark cartoon bandaids, you'll enjoy the fact you get to see Spongebob, Patrick, and Scooby Doo every time you look at your hands.  And you'll be stoked that you get to open the Monster's Inc package next.

On the way over to her house, for a brief moment I thought I should quick knock on her door to let her know I was going to start mowing.  It was that second of habit, of forgetting she was no longer there.  I was going to mow the lawn of an empty house.  And then I started reliving the fact that I'll never see her waving as I'm leaving the house.  I'll never watch her go sweep her driveway when I got grass clippings all over it (no matter how hard I tried not to!)  And that thought still brings me to tears.  

I think that's one of the hardest things about losing someone, you don't just lose them once, you lose them again and again, every time you forget, every time you remember.  

There are moments you forget their gone, sometimes early morning when you just wake up and for a second you think it was all a dream.  Sometimes it's when something funny happens and you just want to tell them, sometimes it's when you have some really exciting news that you want to rush over and discuss with them.  Sometimes it's something as simple as mowing their lawn and thinking you should let them know.  In the moments we forget, there's a breath of peace.  In the moments we remember, we cling to the memories.

There are times when I don't like to write about it, don't like to talk about it, don't like to feel anything.  I tend to think that if I don't let myself feel sad, don't let myself think about it, then it won't hurt as much.  Since my grandma's passing (it's weird to even write, as if this isn't real) my questions about God have intensified.  I've become so much more afraid of death, had so many more questions of why we are living, felt like so much of life is so pointless and yet it's flying by and I can't figure it out fast enough.  

I went for a nine mile walk today, something unplanned but something I think I needed (walking is good thinking time for me).  I remembered something that happened to me, something when I was younger, that made me undoubtedly believe in God.  I don't doubt that God is very real, very active, very true.  My belief of this is so passionately strong, that I have a hard time describing it as a belief, it's better described as a Truth.  I started thinking about death, and how everyone around us will eventually pass away.  That scares me so much.  But as I though of my fear, I began to realize that my logic was flawed.  If I believed so strongly in an active, alive, loving God, but was afraid of death, did that mean I didn't believe in His promise?  How could I believe God as real but not trust that Jesus had died for us and we were made worthy through his sacrifice?  

I don't believe that we can pick and choose what we believe.  I believe in black and white, truth and lies.  I DO believe that we, as humans, have not gotten it right.  I think we'll all be surprised when we come face to face with God and He explains it all.  It'll be one of those, "WOW, we were soooo off!" moments.  BUT I do believe that there are two things we will find to be truth: God is real, and Jesus died to save us.  Everything else, although important, I think we'll be surprised by.  

In the past couple years I've gotten SUPER skeptical of Christians.  I hate that there's so much conflict on topics like homosexuality.  I hate that there's such a division that seems to be between "Christians" vs "Non Christians".  I hate that there's a divide that's spewed so much hate, from both sides.

I believe Christians should live differently.  I would hope that as a Christian, you WOULD stand out. But I think the biggest realization is that in Christianity, IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU.  We get so caught up in pointing fingers at how someone else is living their life, judging others for their flaws, hating our own selves for our imperfections, yearning for something more and reaching around for something to fill us when all along we've simply had to reach up.  

This life, with all it's dealings, is about something bigger.  We've got, got, got to stop making this life about us.  Whether you believe in God or not, we all are faced with questions of death, with fears, with insecurities, with trials, with love.  And I really, truly believe that each and every one of us has an internal pull, an internal understanding that there is something more.  It's more that just a hope, it's a magnetic draw toward a higher being.  

I think the source of that pull is from the One who made us.  Just like you are similar to your parents whether in looks, actions, or habits, we are mirrored in God.  We are reflections of the One who made us, and our internal understanding is because He is in us.  He made us.  The separation from Him is what our trials are, and only through Jesus can we finally be home in Him again someday.

This is what I cling to when I forget and remember the loss of someone I love.  That internal longing, that internal knowing, that God is there.  That God is FOR us.  That God loves us.  

It makes this life about Him.  Living for Him, showing kindness, loving those that are different from us and those that are similar, feeding the hungry, helping the poor, spreading His word.  All of these things make this life worth living.  

It gives our life purpose.