Unforgettable, That’s What You Are –

bird in the hand, bird, sparrow, food

Or not.

That old song has been spooking me.

Have you ever entertained the unwelcome thought that God had forgotten you? Followed by the even more unwelcome thought-

“I’m so insignificant, so unimportant, smaller than a grain of sand in the great Sahara Desert. I’m worthless. Why should He remember me?”

You scrabble for reasons why He would remember you and can’t find any. You’re great at nothing. Neither as a writer, a musician, a top professional in whatever you do, you’re not even great at simple things.

Oh, what a lovely pity party you could have.

Surgery

Yesterday I went to see my orthopedic surgeon for a pre-op clearance. The evil moment had arrived that my left knee was ready to retire from permanent duty. A shiny new “off-the-shelf” knee awaited me.  My right knee, already the proud recipient of an artificial structure, waited patiently to share my body mass once again evenly.

My original and “right knee” surgeon had left the practice, and I’d met his replacement a few weeks previously. He is young, and I was tempted to ask if I may see his surgical qualifications. I wanted to make sure he was not right out of high school. We chatted about this and that as I decided whether I trusted him to fix a failing body part.

My new doctor.

I did, and so there I was, going through a pre-op clearance. He was all business, and it was Friday afternoon, so I assume he had already had a crazy week. He was rushing through all the dos and don’ts, liabilities, responsibilities, and more, and I got the nasty feeling he had no idea he’d met me before.

Now, I don’t think I am a superstar, but people do tend to remember me. If not because I’m entirely silver-haired (not grey, grey is old, I’m silver), then my accent.

I started saying – ‘we’ve met before,” but I don’t believe he heard me.

“Where are you from?” There it was, the usual question because of my accent.

“South Africa,” I said clearly, hoping this would jog his memory.

“I want to go there someday,” he said. “I’m a surfer and they have wonderful waves. And big sharks,” he added.

“Yup,” I muttered sotto voice. I told you that.”

And that was that.

The funny side.

Unforgettable?

As we got in the car, I related the story to my loving husband. The humor struck me, and I couldn’t stop laughing as I accepted that –

Unforgettable, I am not.

I’m simply a slab of walking talking meat waiting to be taken apart and put together again. I was asexual, not a glimmer of recognition of me as a man or a woman. With good reason, I guess, in today’s climate.

Still, I came away feeling old, unworthy, inferior, and not up to much. With no energy for creative work, I decided to unpack a box in my storage closet. It had not been attended to since our move to Florida and beyond. I would be unearthing stuff that had been dormant for more than twenty years. Dragged from one continent to another, one state to another, one home to another.

A trip down memory lane.

Photos, letters yellowed and curling at the edges; some even showing the teeth marks of small rodents when stored in a farmhouse attic for a while; all these keeping alive events and friends and loved ones. Especially my daughter. From when she was less than twenty-four hours old until she turned eighteen and left us.

Regardless of where I look or turn, there are photos of her. But really, I do not need these to remember her. She is inscribed on my heart. Truly unforgettable.

My mind goes to the fact that I have not received the Eucharist from a priest in well over a year. The Act of Spiritual Communion is simply not the same. I hunt for the words –

In Remembrance of Me

 In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” (1 Cor 11:25-26 NIV)

I leave the sprawled-out contents of the container on the floor, too sad and discouraged to even tidy up my mess.

Early morning the following day I am at my computer, ready to read my online devotionals (how I detest those, I love the feel of a book in my hands.) The skies are overcast, and a March wind is having fun. Dry palm fronds litter the lawn. Tree branches creak and groan as they follow the dance set by the wind. Now a polka, then a foxtrot; time to stop and breathe and off again. This time elegant, maybe a slow waltz but not for long. The canal water flows to its own drumbeat. Up and down and up and down, now a little bumpier, then a slower tempo.

In the house, silence reigns. The type of silence that marks I’m the only living, breathing creature around. My husband has taken the dogs for a walk, something forbidden to me as I await that knee surgery.  With those fierce hunters out of the way, a tiny squirrel races across the grass, snuffling for a fallen delicacy.

So many blessings.

The love of family and friends. Food, shelter, clothing. Health. Freedom to worship.

And with that realization, how can I possibly for a single moment think I’m not unforgettable in the eyes of the only One that matters?

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid because the Lord your God goes with you, he will never leave you nor forsake you. (Deut. 31:6 NIV)

It needs repeating –

“He will never leave you nor forsake you.”

I’m unforgettable after, all.

 

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4 thoughts on “Unforgettable, That’s What You Are –”

  1. Wow, so delightful and timely. I too visited my orthopedic surgeon yesterday. We might be soul sisters Ida. I’m also a convert who needs occasional education from my awesome cradle Catholic husband. Thanks be to God.

  2. Pingback: THVRSDAY EDITION – Big Pulpit

  3. If you “haven’t received the eucharist from a priest in over a year”, (evidently not by your own choice), then you do NOT have “freedom to worship”.

  4. Like some TV husbands (Ricky Ricardo, Ralph Kramden, Archie Bunker, Fred Flintstone…etc), I’ve been known to be guilty of responding a distracted “yes honey” while absorbed in my favorite Catholic websites online. Often I’m unable to tear my eyes away from the screen. Frequently I reflect on this while praying the Salve Regina when I reach “Turn, then, most gracious advocate, your eyes of mercy toward us…” How can Mary possibly muster the will to tear her eyes away from the Beautific Vision?! I think it really goes to show that the Church really is the Body of Christ.

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