If tomorrow is the repository of our hopes and dreams, yesterday is their fountainhead. If tomorrow is always just beyond our reach, yesterday lives not in the past but ever in the present. All of our hopes and dreams past flow through our present on their journey to tomorrow. On that journey they are imprinted on our eternal present where they merge with memories of events past.
In the late seventies I was teaching at Northwest Bible College and Brother George Alford visited the campus. Brother Alford was famous in the Church of God for quoting entire books of the Bible. I invited him to one of my classes to talk about Scripture memorization. He had a built-up shoe and walked with a limp. I gave a glowing introduction and invited him to the front to share his thoughts on the subject.
Talking in a raspy, southern draw with his jaw cocked sideways like a life-long tobacco chewer, which he was not, he responded, “Well, the way I figure it, there are two things you are always going to remember, the things you hate and the things you love. If you’re having trouble remembering the Bible, you just don’t love it like you should.” With that he shook his head and left the room. I have reflected often on those words with a sense of guilt.
There are other things we remember well: fear, tragedy, transforming moments, to name a few. Yesterday morning I put a saddle on Rose and led her around with Camdyn mounted high. I doubt I will remember it for the heat and humidity. The image of the old mare pausing to munch on fallen apples may not linger long, but I think I shall recall Camdyn’s recurring reply, “No, Papa, I’m not ready to get down yet. Can I ride for just a little while longer?”
I was dripping with sweat but happy to be there. Camdyn might not think about the ride past a few days, but I will long cherish the morning I did something with her that she cherished and did not want to end. Yesterday is sweet to the taste buds.
August 15, 2010