Forget About It

“Where’d you get that?” my husband asked as we stood in the bathroom (the only place we can hope for a minute or two of peace in our home).  I looked down at where he was pointing - a bruise on the back of my calf... a baseball-sized, deep black and purple bruise on the back of my calf.  “I don’t know,” I replied while wracking my brain a few seconds.  “I think... well, I kind of remember something really hurt a few days ago, but... Yeah - it’s gone,” I trailed off.  He looked at me, incredulous that I couldn’t remember something that would have caused the huge, fresh bruise.  Less concerned about the bruise than about my sanity, I began to think, “I’ve come to the age where I can’t remember how I’ve received significant injuries.”  Then I quipped, “Well, at least I don’t fully understand dentures yet.  I think that means I’m officially not over-the-hill just yet.”  I have, in case you were wondering though, come to the age where grooming is the lengthy process with which I thought only more mature women had to cope.  The cleansing, the exfoliating, the moisturizing, the eye cream, the tweezing - and not just on my face anymore... my limbs and extremities too! For instance, I had this blog hit me right after I washed my face tonight, and I had to come sit to write it, BUT I had forgotten the moisturizer.  Ugh... my face felt like someone had put super glue all over it, but no - it was just my skin.  When people say that, as you mature, you become “more comfortable in your skin,” I’m not sure that analogy holds true to reality.  As I mature, my skin gets more uncomfortable.  Not that it’s unusual, but I fear I’ve gone off on a tangent.  

As I lay in bed with Violet last night at bedtime (as is our nightly ritual), she rubbed my face with her hands and said, “Mom, I wanna be a grandma soon.”  I find this amusing, because my own daughters and my niece always say they want to be a grandma... not a mom... not a doctor... not president... a grandma.  I can only conclude that my mom must make grandma-ing look like a pretty sweet gig.  I replied to her, “Great!  Who are you going to marry?”  She said, “No!  Not going to marrrrrry.  Gonna be a grandmaaaa!”  I said, “Well, you gotta be a momma first, because I get to be a grandma before you do.”  She was notably annoyed at the concept.  I tried to help by explaining our family dynamic - that she is my daughter, and grandma is my mom, and her kids will be my grandkids, etc. and she said, “Well, then I gotta be a daughter? Then a momma? THEN a grandma?”  I affirmed that she got the concept, and she sighed long, and said, “Well, I’m your daughter, and I gonna marry daddy then.”  Well, I can’t blame her there, he WAS the last man suitable for marriage - that is, before I snapped him up.  :)  Tonight, we switched, and I lay with Levi while Mark lay with Violet.  She rubbed his beard and told him it was his birthday, and that she was going to make him a cake and give him a Rapunzel present.  He eats up this time with his little girl.  He’s finally getting a glimpse into what makes a woman, and he truly enjoys it.  Every man should have a daughter - I truly believe that.  Then she began to tell Mark that she was his daughter, and that she was going to have to marry him so she could get to be a grandma.  He said, “Well, I’m already married to momma.”  She quickly replied, “And me.  You’re married to US.”  Mark looked at me, and I smiled and said, “I’m okay with that.”  What’s funny to me is that she can’t wait to get to the age of grandmothering, while I’m fighting it with every cream and lotion on the shelf.  

My husband's "other wife"

I want to know things - like how to identify birds, for instance.  It seems that, since we moved to the country 2 years ago, I see so many different types of birds that I really want to know what they are.  Austin likes to tell me that he knows what certain birds are, but he just makes them up as he goes along I think.  I challenge him from time-to-time.  For instance, he told me this semi-annoying bird in our front tree was a Starling.

(This is actually a Grackle.)

As it turns out, THIS is a Starling. 

Austin and I can spend a half hour talking about birds and trying to look them up on my phone or the computer - only to end in frustration and/or with me searching in vain for a bird-identifier app for my phone.  Our conclusion?  We’re what we like to call “bird idiots”.  Even if I did learn the names of birds, unless they were to begin wearing name tags, I would forget their names almost instantaneously.  Recall of names, unfortunately, is not my strong suit.  I forget.

Where am I going with this?  I almost forgot.  I’ve been trying to figure something out - a concept.  It’s called GRACE.  Grace is, by definition, 2 (in Christian belief) the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings.  Why am I trying to figure it out?  Because I’m a beneficiary of it.  We all are - whether we realize it and “take it to the bank” or not.  

Something most people don’t know is that the day I met my husband was the day I died.  I was looking for so many things when I was single.  I was looking for truth, love, friendship, God’s character, and so much of the time I found YUCK... except in that one area.  God’s character not only never came back wanting - it always surprised me with lavish grace.  I had, for some months, been giving lower priority to Mark’s phone calls in favor of another guy I liked  - who was more talkative, more engaging, and I thought better suited to me.  This man had asked me to accompany him and a friend to Chicago for a day on the town.  I was thrilled.  One problem... I had already told Mark I’d meet him for supper that night.  I had already told Mark it wasn’t “a date”... that I wasn’t sure I wanted a relationship, but that I was willing to meet him.  (Talk about your double-dating...eek!)  I wasn’t completely honest to either man about my intentions for the day, but I intended to keep both of my “obligations,” as the day began.  I don’t know why I just didn’t cancel with Mark, as the thought had crossed my mind.  Life proved out otherwise.  As I was in Chicago that day, we went to Barnes and Noble.  I sat in a section of the store alone, thinking over my single-ness... the out-of-control way I was often handling it.  I can’t remember exactly what happened, but the guy I liked came and sat next to me.  He said, “I don’t know how to say this, but I don’t think we’re ready for a relationship.”  I was completely taken aback.  I was annoyed, rejected, hurt... a place I had found myself several times over the past 2 years.  I felt like God was punishing me, and that He was right to do it.  The rest of that day went by in a blur.  When I look back now, it was actually kind of hilarious.  Mostly out of guilt, I imagine, he offered to let me do whatever I wanted for the rest of our day together.  There’s something funny about when you don’t have anything to lose in a relationship (or lack thereof in this case) - you don’t have to care how you look.  And I didn’t.  I forgot any desire I had to impress anyone that day.  I said I wanted to see Memoirs of a Geisha.  He and his (surely annoyed) friend accompanied me and, if I recall, my armloads of snacks to the notorious chick flick, and I blubbered and devoured through the movie crying off all of my makeup in the process and washing away any trace of dignity I could have had left at that point.  I can just imagine what I looked like after the movie - puddles of mascara and chocolate crumbs around my chin.

My heart just ached.  I didn’t want to meet Mark that night.  I just knew it would be another colossal failure.  I spent the 2 hour car ride to my meeting point with Mark bawling and praying... laying it all out to God and telling Him that I knew He wanted me to be content with Him and that I wanted to be - single and happy.  I don’t think I even gave a thought to the idea that Mark might be the man God had for me.  I didn’t want to be presumptuous.  In fact, I was sure that God was giving me the absolute “red light” when it came to relationships, and I was okay with it.  I died that night - to what I hoped for, what I wanted, and what I thought I needed.  What I didn’t realize then was a critical truth: God wasn’t punishing me.  He was rescuing me.  

Well, our “non-date” didn’t start as well as it might’ve, considering I was wearing a hoodie, blue and yellow sneakers, and not a speck of makeup... not to mention red, puffy eyes, and a somber tone.  I guess it turned out exactly how God wanted.  I told Mark when he returned home that I was not ready for a relationship... that I was not planning to have a relationship with him or anyone else for quite some time, and that unless God made it clear otherwise, we were on permanent hold.  I’ll never forget his response, “Well, I’ve been single for 7 years.  I’ve never been in a hurry, and I’m not in one now.  I’ll wait.  When you’re ready, I’ll be right here.”  I had never had a guy give me this kind of freedom - this leeway to just be.  I gave him permission to call me when he wanted, and the rest is history.  What has followed has been blessings beyond my wildest dreams.  I have never considered for a moment that I might deserve anything we now have as a family.  I know only this - I do not deserve it.  Mark does not deserve it.  He blessed us - not just despite our sin, but, it almost seems, to spite our sin.  It is only evidence of God’s grace... full and free.

This is the benefit of forgetfulness.  Psalm 103:12 says, “As far as the east is from the west, So far has He removed our sins from us.”  He has forgotten my sins.  When I can’t do anything but remember them, He has forgotten them.  They were nailed on a cross to His Son by His will, and He remembers them no more (Jer. 31:34, Heb. 8:10, Heb. 10:17). Therefore, He has no cause to punish me for them.  

I think a lot of Christians are afraid to extend grace to themselves and to others, because they fear it will be taken “too far”.  This kind of, “If we tell people all their sins are forgiven, they’ll just go out and sin in every way possible with no fear of consequences and no remorse.”  In the same way, we fear that if we believe God’s grace is infinitely lavish, we ourselves will go on a sin binge.  I have concluded that, when it comes to myself at least, binge sinning came, not from a feeling that I had unlimited grace with which to indulge a sinful lifestyle but rather from a feeling I had squandered the little grace God had given me and was bound for hell anyway.  Our acts of goodness, of love, of kindness, and of generosity must NOT be in hopes of purchasing salvation that Christ’s blood already purchased for us.  They should, instead, be done in thankfulness for that which was freely extended to us - no strings attached - at the cross.  If the gravity of God’s sacrifice for me does not drive me to pursue a holy lifestyle, then I probably don’t know or love Him at all.

I’m so thankful God is forgetful.