When you can’t remember what you’re supposed to hope for, or what you have for reasons in the past, remember a pocket-sized girl with two braids of straw. Walking ahead through the August field, to her it’s an ocean, and her arms the lifting sails that catch the wind.

Recall a bucket of water, heavy and sloshing in one hand, and a small palm tight in the other. And the absent-minded humming of three years old, a tune on repeat.

Or chickens on the run, tail feathers ruffled with indignation at a girl with a rake. In the end however, they run just the same, and we pen them in their fence, like memories, safe for as long as we care to close our eyes and keep them. And remember.


One thought on “Snapshots

  1. the library of “memory” is a labyrinth… wonderful and sometimes overwhelming…
    … the well of “recollection” deep and mysterious… and often confusing…

    May He who brought light out of darkness and order out of random… help us to understand our part… past/present/future and enable us to look to and trust Him, every day, for the wisdom, strength, courage and humility that we need to play it well.



Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s