Tuesday, August 5, 2014

The Photo Albums of God

Where does he keep them, those memories lost
In the minds of bodies that still pump and shoot neurons to the muscles still working,
as the beautiful minds fade and forget, 
where do their memories go?

Does he have a storehouse in heaven with categories on file
of births and weddings and birthday parties and soft spoken smiles?

Does He pull them out and look at them like an old photograph book
Does He remember with a smile the day she first took Him at His word and stepped out in faith
To give her life to Him and walk and not glance back with a look?

How far away does the east keep them from the west to guard her mind from the past
But what about those memories of courage, trust, and faith and fun
Are they placed in His storehouse of life's moments that will forever last?

Does He have them filed by moments of triumph, moments of courage, moments of joy?
Will He remember them by the years of growth like the markings on a chart remembering 
our height as we stood up straight to get the tallest mark?

Where does He keep them, these memories lost and forgotten, each moment that mattered to Him or someone along our path?

When we're with Him, when we're Home, will we pore through the stories and laugh and smile and rejoice as we finally see Him beside us, through the things that did come to pass, through the days that weren't wasted?

Will the cloud of witnesses stand behind us then and chuckle and laugh and say, "I remember when."

"I remember watching you from above and cheering you on as the dreams you had made fell to the majesty of His dream for you.

"You couldn't see it then," they might say, "but we knew His plan was good, see that smile on His face there, you didn't know it then in your tears, but He knew you were right where you needed to be."

The memories of the pain can never be washed entirely away, for the days of joy were made in the days of grief and heartache, of disappointment, rage, and fear.

They are all a part of the story that got us here today.

What could be changed, wouldn't be changed, for the story has to be told, of the miracles that are your life, too many to be left untold.

When the mind gets tired and the memories fade, they only get filed away 
for the moment when we all go home, oh what a glorious day.

To see the things that mattered much more than what we could have ever thought, played out in someone else's life we never could have wrought.

The albums will fly open, the laughs and chuckles too.
We'll see His face on every page, see there,
He's holding you!




Peace,
Ronda





No comments:

Post a Comment