I opened an old book this evening and found pressed between the crisp yellow-edged pages two violets. The book is very old and had belonged to my mother. Immediately a torrent of questions poured out of my mind. Where did she get them? Who gave them to her? How long ago did she so carefully spread those precious purple petals to perpetually preserve them? Did she ever return to see them? Were they from my father? One of my sisters? Me? Had I come running in from the backyard to present them to the most beautiful person I knew? Had she kissed me and kept them safely in that old book? I would like to think it was that way but I have no memory of such. I just know that most little boys think their mothers are God’s angels. I was no exception.
Had Jesus ever brought flowers to Mary? Surely He must have done so. In the Sermon on the Mount He speaks of lilies. While He spoke of them did He smile as He remembered their fragrance mingling with the scent of fresh wood shavings on their carpenter’s floor? Life is mostly a conglomeration of memories. Since the events of life are both good and bad the quality of our lives depends upon what we choose to remember. One of my friends once came to me and spilled out a horror story of how her husband had abused her. When I asked her when this occurred she gave me a date that was twenty three years gone by. Need I say more?
The memories are ours. The power is ours. Forgiving and forgetting is the key to the abundant life He promised. What is left is quality?
Written by Roger Bothwell on January 3, 2012
Spring of Life Ministry, PO Box 124, St. Helena, CA 94574
Rogerbothwell.org