Sometimes I forget. The force of “what is happening right now” distracts, and I forget.  Or the right now is good, and a past ‘great’ invades my thoughts, and I forget. I forget the goodness of God; I forget that the God of the universe has never for a moment stopped moving and working on my behalf. I forget the ground that has been gained. The strength that has been granted. The mending that continues to heal my heart and mind and, yes, body. In the vortex of the present, the good gifts are lost to me. Author Ann Voskamp calls it ‘spiritual amnesia’. http://www.aholyexperience.com Perfect description.

Three nights ago I met with some friends to walk a local causeway bridge. Hike may be a better verb. The bridge is one of the few in our area that offers a (somewhat) challenging incline, so if you walk briskly enough (or not…), you will get a workout. We have frequented this bridge countless times to prepare for backpacking trips, general exercise, and simple camaraderie. Three nights ago would be the first time after a long absence that I would revisit this worthy expanse. The first time since spinal surgery. The first testing of strength and stamina. I felt ready. I felt happy. I felt thankful. We stood chatting while waiting for our final friend to arrive when it happened. A large group of cyclists – lean bodies bent, sleek bikes shining, moving as one – sailed silently past us as they made their way toward the expanse. Without warning, the vortex sucked me in. Like a wave of unexpected nausea, I was gripped with envy, loss, and sadness at all I had once enjoyed – and can no more. Without resistance, I let it wash over me, “I can’t do that anymore.” Amnesia.

“Bless the LORD, O my soul, And all that is within me, bless His Holy name.  Bless the LORD, O my soul, And forget none of His benefits.” Psalm 103:1,2

I walked that bridge three nights ago. I walked it yesterday morning, and I walked it this morning. I did not walk it because it was easy; I walked it because I am able. I am able because God is gracious to me and is allowing me to continue to do the things He knows I love to do, namely: be out of doors, exercise this body of mine (and push it just a little), enjoy the company of comrades while doing so, and most importantly, commune with my Father who never misses a chance to speak life into my soul. Maybe I will get back on my bike in the way I love to, or maybe I won’t. But this I know. Life will change. It is changing. I am changing. But God does not. His kindness and mercy and truth are offered to me each day. His strength is offered to me each day. I can watch a group of cyclists glide by and choose to say, “Thank you, Father, for the joy of time spent on my bike and the ways You spoke into my heart then. It was glorious. I won’t forget”. And I can feel not envy but eucharisteo – Grace. Thanksgiving. Joy. When those cyclists sail by, I can whisper to my heart, “I know their joy”.

And so I remember. I remember the gifts of yesterdays. I remember the gifts of this morning. And I acknowledge the gifts of right now. Life. Breath. Bridges. Beauty. And I know that with each change, each season, each current of life right up to the end, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” Present tense. Period.

Now, what were you saying, Lord…?