There’s a basketball in our kitchen. Not really an ideal spot, I know, but when you’re in a temporary furnished rental with little storage (and even less desire) to organize things, you end up with piles. Clean piles, dirty piles, and a basketball rolling around in your kitchen that was missed by the movers when they were packing things up to go to storage.
Mostly it hasn’t been a problem. I’ve kicked it out of the way a few times while scrambling eggs and one child tried to balance herself on it while reading a book propped on the counter. (Because she’s seven, that’s why.) But mostly it’s just there, a high school high-scoring memory from my husband’s past that I can’t get rid of even though it’s just that, a memory. And two months from now when we move into our new home it will go into a bin in the garage where it will be quickly forgotten.
I have moments like that. Times where a memory pops up from the past that I’d rather forget. Mistakes I’ve made, stupid things I’ve said and people’s feelings I’ve hurt. That’s when I get stuck inside myself and dwell on the crud. I’m not good enough. I’m certainly not smart enough and goodness knows my children are going to need years of therapy to recover from their childhood. Years.
Satan likes to do that. He throws things at us to remind us of our past because that’s ALL the information he has. He doesn’t know our future LIKE GOD DOES. He doesn’t have great plans for us LIKE GOD DOES. And he most certainly doesn’t forget our mistakes LIKE GOD DOES. So he tosses annoying things our way to distract us from what God has for us. Some days it can be as small as a marble, others it’s that darn basketball rolling around in your kitchen.
So let’s remember His promise of grace. And as my Anna just said last week, “Hey Mom! Isn’t it so good that God forgot that I pinched Emily yesterday? That’s my favorite part about God. The forgetting part.”