“Sorry. I forgot.”
Boy… If I had a dollar for every time those words have come out of my mouth, I would have a LOT of money.
But then after I got that money, the challenge for me would be remembering where I put it!
It is a rather annoying part of my make-up I’ll admit. Forgetting can certainly increase friction on the home front – “Oh, sorry, honey… I forgot to ask her! Sorry, sweetheart! I forgot to bring that inside!” etc., etc.
Forgetting also increases gasoline expenditures… with all of that turning around and driving back to the store for those three things I forgot to buy.
And let’s not even start on the conversation about someone forgetting to renew his or her (actually, his) passport until TWO DAYS before a recent trip out of the country.
In my defense, I can say that I don’t discriminate in my forgetfulness. I forget big things, I forget small things; I forget things about people who are close to me, I forget things about casual acquaintances. I forget the names of black people, white people, gay people, straight people, American-born and non-American born people, Republicans and Democrats alike.
And this forgetting thing somehow doesn’t seem to DECREASE with the accumulation of birthday candles on my cake either… hard as that might be to believe.
It does trouble me, yes. It troubled me enough, in fact, to have some neurological tests done recently. (Weirdly, they came back saying my brain is perfectly OK.)
But as troubling as MY forgetfulness is, I find myself significantly more worried about OUR forgetfulness. And by OUR, I mean humanity’s.
In the past thirty days we have experienced more than our fair share of calamitous events in this part of the world; two monster hurricanes that wreaked havoc and devastation… wildfires scorching thousands of acres of forest and destroying homes in the American west… and a giant earthquake just to our south in Mexico.
In every one of these situations, we saw incredible outpourings of heroic compassion. People who were complete strangers reached out to help their neighbors. I remember sitting in spellbound awe listening to a radio story about a man in Texas going from house to house to house in his bass boat helping people get to shelters, saving their pets, and delivering aid.
Money has been pouring into the American Red Cross and other assistance groups since even before the first hurricane hit. People in little churches and towns all around the country have been reaching out as if to say, “I may have never met them, but those are my brothers and sisters there in Texas and Florida and Oregon and Washington and Arizona whose lives are being torn apart by these disasters. I need to HELP!”
But then… Even before the waters have begun to recede… we forget.
- We forget the humanity we share.
- We forget the fragile nature of life on this planet.
- We forget we live in a nation that once said we find “strength in diversity.”
- We forget we are each made of the spiritual DNA of a loving, compassionate God.
- We forget the “Love one another” commandment from John 15:5… or else we have edited it and added our own little caveat that says, “… but only in times of dire emergency.”
- We forget the deep joy that comes from carrying our neighbor’s burden … and then also double forget Jesus’ definition of “neighbor” that is found in the 10th chapter of Luke’s gospel in the parable of the Good Samaritan.
But some things we remember all too well…
Sadly, we seem to remember to pick up the fears, prejudices, and mistrust of other people that we momentarily laid aside when the storms hit.
- We “remember” the monumental importance of staking out our positions and platforms and defending them against all manner of heretical critique.
- We remember who the “insiders” and the “outsiders” are and we rush to reinforce our walls of protection.
It’s funny; hurricanes, floods, fires, and earthquakes seem to remind us who our neighbors are.
But guess what… they’re the same people when the sun is out and the day is calm!
Let’s try to remember that.
Abundant blessings;
An important issue. Thanks for reminding me.
… in case you forgot.