So this year I decided to download the app on Facebook that notifies you every day about something that happened in years past in your Facebook life on that day in your "history." (I am sure at this point, my personal computer geek, aka my dad, will call me and tell me that somehow this is a way for hackers to track me...oh well, they won't get much out of me anyway). This app is a two-edged sword. On the one hand, the year 2012 is getting increasingly harder and harder to read. There have been a few times already that Ryan has texted me and said, "Don't look at today's memories" and I know to just let that day's memories pass me by. For example, January 2012 was when we started really letting people know that baby Hannah was on her way. Every day, I open my "you have memories" notification box thinking to myself, "How painful is today going to be." BUT, even as that date of May 3rd looms closer and closer, I can't bear to uninstall the app because even in that pain, there is a reminder that it was in that year that I grappled with some truths that I now know beyond all doubt. I learned in that year that it was in that valley of the shadow that I would understand so much more about God and His character and unchanging goodness, even in a world with pain and suffering in it. He remains faithful, good, ONLY good, and ever gracious. Even in the moments where I really wasn't sure how I would be able to push aside the pain and "get through" another day, acting like everything was ok when it really wasn't, somehow, we made it through. Sure there are scars and sure there is still some raw emotion there from time to time, but we walked through that valley and stand on the other side of it now. It was through that loss that my eyes were opened to the fact that I had never really placed my faith in HIS finished work and relying on the prayer I prayed or "doing" the salvation moment correctly. Had we never had that moment in time that left us forever changed, I might have remained forever lost.
However, after scrolling through the 2012 posts, there, in 2013 and 2014 are posts about our miracle. Either happy doctor reports that all is well and he is going to be born (we actually broke the news to the world at large over the long MLK weekend...so those good memories are coming) or a smiling baby face eating baby food for the first time, or rolling over, or eating peas or just being the perfectly adorable baby that he is. I am reminded again that joy does come in the morning and weeping only lasts for the night. Now, for us, our "night of weeping" was more like two long years, waiting for our miracle, but joy did come. Joy didn't only come and hang out for a day or two, it made itself a permanent member of the family. Each post from the last two years (with a few complaints about home repairs or traffic in Florida) are bursting with joy.
Even my college years posts are preserved on Facebook. Even those, believe it or not, have been interesting to encounter. I either find myself a little embarrassed that I thought people would actually care about what I ate in the dining hall that day or I find myself smiling over posts like "Hey Linny, I accidentally took your printer cable to my house, but I will return it after break. See ya soon." Or I see posts with private jokes (that I actually have long forgotten the real meaning of, because, after all, college was some *cough cough I am old* years ago now) that make me smile, not because I remember the meaning but because of the friendships they represent. There are posts from after I was married but my friends were still seniors, where we set up "dinner at Amy's place (because I had the TV and the cable that they didn't have) tradition." In those college memories I can walk the dorms again, stay up all night to study (don't actually miss that), eat junk food, shop for trinkets, and eat the Chick-fil-A college special for $3.09.
While the app has served to make me smile, laugh, remember and reflect, it has also made me thankful. I have been blessed. I have a wonderful life. I have a husband that I have known, in good times and out-and-out bad times, for nearly 10 years. I have a beautiful little boy who delights and, at times, challenges me and all I know about mothering. I have babies I have yet to meet and some I have held, only for a few moments, but who are awaiting my arrival (soon, I hope) in our forever home. There are friendships, preserved for all time on the walls of that app (yes, for all the world to see). The good, the bad, the joys, the sorrows...they are all there. I click "See your memories for today" and suddenly I am 20 year old Amy once again, making college friends, taking too many classes at once, and dating my first real and only love. With a quick click of the mouse (or in my case, tap on the i-phone), I am in my first teaching job and complaining about four new preps while my chili simmers in the crock pot (oh the days when I was first married and I had a crock pot dinner ready almost every day...I am imagining my hubby misses those days too....ha ha). One more swipe and there is a picture of an oh so tiny baby Joel wearing his "My first Thanksgiving" bib and grinning like he still does with eyes twinkling that hints at a pinch of naughty and pounds of sweetness.
More than anything, I am grateful that the app does not have (not like it could anyway) a "see your memories of tomorrow" feature. I know that must be why the Lord told us "Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself." Imagine if 2012 Amy knew what May of 2012 held for us. I do not know how she would have carried that burden. Even this Amy, the 2016 version, couldn't carry that weight. I was listening to our Awana director speaking tonight in our club at church to our 3rd-5th grade girls. She was telling a student-aged version of Corrie ten Boom's story (which if you have not read the book on her life...you MUST...go get it tomorrow!!). Tonight's segment was about Corrie's early years as a child and that her greatest struggle was being afraid...for her, it seemed, mostly of death or tragedy befalling her family. Near the end of the story, Corrie's father used a train ride as a teachable moment. "Corrie," he said, "When we ride the train somewhere, when do I give you the ticket to hold?" Corrie's answer was that is was right before the ticket taker on the train would ask for it. That's how it is in life also. God does not heap upon us ALL that life has for us to cope with or enjoy or manage all at once...we could not take it. He gives us the ticket RIGHT when we need it. Oh the truth in that story. Now, ask 2012 Amy if she even wanted to be on train we were on and I am not sure what answer she would give you...but, when it came time to live that day in May in 2012, somehow, we had the ticket and we made it through.
Dearest readers (all 23 of you), I do not know what 2016 is going to bring your way or mine. 2016, even though is is a mere 15 days old, has already held joys and tragedy for all of us, I am confident of that. I know there are still those dear friends (and I do pray for you, please know that) who are still awaiting your own miracle baby. Take heart...perhaps 2016 is your miracle baby year! There are others who have no idea which job path to take next, how you are going to pay for college, or how you will ever get your toddler potty trained! Maybe this is the year that will be made plain to you. Wherever you find yourself in this year, remember, we don't need to worry about tomorrow, the ONE who feeds the sparrows and clothes the lilies in the field...HE can manage this year and make it into something beautiful in HIS time. Trust Him to hold the ticket until HE is ready for you to take it. He is a good, good Father. It is Who He is...He is ALWAYS ONLY GOOD.
Until next time,
AMY
