I Held A Memory

A few weeks ago, I held a memory. Have you ever tried it? It's a moment in time when, in that split second, you know it will never come again. It's gone. But you hold on to the moment. As long as you can. You try to make it last. When I think of the big moments of my life, they are really very small. I mean, I can't remember anything about my wedding. Do you? When my 3 children were born, I remember wanting to hold the moments forever, but I’ve lost so many pieces. They flew out of my grasp. Baptisms, Holidays and Funerals are all significant occasions, but my will has been too weak to hold them securely. They are some of the meaningful stuff of life that inevitably slips through my fickle fingers.

Words. What I seem to remember most are the words of friends. Words that chastise or encourage. Bits and pieces of advice that have stuck in my brain year after year. Songs my mother sung while she cooked and danced around the kitchen. Lyrics and poetry that speak truth to my heart. A prayer uttered on my behalf. Those are the memories that stick. I suppose that is why, when Christ came He was the Word who became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1). He knew we wouldn't easily forget His words.

Scent. Everything about my dad, smells. Don't laugh! For one thing, he is one of those old men who wears wonderful cologne. When I was a wee girl I sat upon the bathroom counter making sculptures out of Old Spice Shave Cream. I can smell it even now. It is one of my fondest memories. My dad also cooks a lot of Pakistani food. Every time I make cilantro, in anything, I think of my dad and all the days I sat upon the kitchen stool picking cilantro leaves for his cooking. I remember the gentle fragrance of the first roses I ever planted. I remember the rich aroma of redwood trees in the woods. I will never have an artificial tree because Christmas isn’t complete without the scent of the pine in my living room. When Christ sacrificed himself he became as a “fragrant aroma” (Ephesians 5). He knew we couldn’t easily forget the smell of him.

A baby. A few weeks ago I had the privilege of holding a baby. A woman I barely know had her hands full and I humbly asked if the baby would be content to let me hold him. I did. For an hour. 30 minutes later someone asked me the baby’s name. I didn’t know. Someone else had to tell me. Levi. Levi and I hung out for an hour while his momma taught the soccer class. My arms remembered the trickery of wielding a water bottle and a baby while walking downhill. My flabby stomach remembered the strength of an infant’s kick. My hips remembered the pressure of a baby sitting on them. My hands remembered the feeling of a full diaper. My face remembered the softness of an infant’s bald baby head against my cheek. I don’t know how long I can hold the memory of little Levi. It’s one I’d like to hold forever, but like so many things, I quickly forget. God, however, does not. Isaiah 49:15 reads "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!”

When I think of my moments with Levi I’d like to remember that God condescended to earth in the human form of an infant. Jesus came as a helpless baby. New. Alive. Wonderful. As you ponder this Season of Christmas hold on to the moments and memories that draw your thoughts toward the living God, an infant, a fragrant aroma of offering and the Word that became flesh and dwelt among us. Remember why He came.