Monuments to Amnesia

One third of the way through this chilling season, and one of two things has happened to me:

1. I'm either turning old quick...and very quick or



2. I am going mentally crazy [Hey! I know what you were thinking for a second...]

(I daren't suggest both) but I forgot what I wanted to write about, that is, until I finally realised it was ironically about forgetfulness.

My cure? Well... I've decided to start with the whole sentimental route, that is, grab anything that will remind me of things... Although I'm not sure how that will help me write on my blog...

Mental Monuments

The other day, as I was walking through the University campus, just admiring the red-leaved Autumn tree's, I happened to look down to see a rock in the perfect shape of a heart. So, making sure not too many strangers were near... (hey why do we call them strangers, they aren't all as strange as me are they??) I knelt down, brushed the dirt off of it and treasured it in my right pocket..... until it irritated me by bruising my thigh as I power walked to my lecture.

• Little things seem to catch my attention like that, the fact that I had to bend down to get to what I shall now call 'my heart' had great significance, reminding me that I need to sink down to my knee's before I can clutch the whole of my heart. How often I forget my prayer and wonder why my heart seems so distant.
  


• Secondly, brushing off the bits of dried mud off this small rock reminded me that there are still imperfections, splodges & splices, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get it to shimmer pristinely amoungst the deep cuts and scars. Oh how I always fall for the trap of daily polishing, trying somehow, to hide the imperfections with whatever it takes.

Isn't that just what we try and do with our own? Live with the pretense that someday, with enough rubbing and brushing, amalgamated with a squint of the eye, we hope to see the perfection. This little rock brought me back on my feet and jerked my thinking to a humbler, more realistic, imperfect Ben.

• Then finally, when I had come to accept my heart wasn't perfect, I began to race with it, thinking I can just pocket those imperfections, only to feel a nagging pain as I pace franticly. Ben, why don't you keep it where you can feel it, every sharp edge, every speck of dirt. Man, why don't I let it on show. (P.S read 1 Samuel 16 it's awesome!)
  
  My final lesson, in these brief moments of reflection, made me realise that I must always clutch onto my heart, stop myself from racing ahead and keep it within view if I am going to truley remember...
  
  And so know I keep it in a place on my desk- just to remind me, not always to convict me, but just to stop the forgetting.
  
  Deut 4:9"Only be careful and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live"