This morning my house is silent.
With only the sound of my big, old grandfather clock as a backdrop, I putter around, cleaning this, then that. I smile as my cleaning leads to the orange toy car. The one that has been in this household ever since my son was four. My oldest grandson is now five, and still the car gets used. It’s drastically in need of a wheel alignment, but it still gets used.
In the back of the car I find water. Lots of water. Along with a cup. This is the newest way my almost three-year-old grandson has taken to drinking water. He pours the drinking water into the “trunk” of the car, then takes the cup and scoops it out to drink whenever thirsty. Kids–their creativity and way of thinking is a constant wonder to me–that is when I’m not being “too grown up” to appreciate it.
Traces of yesterday.
As I begin to scoop out the water and dry out the car to prepare it for the next time my grandson is over, I wonder. What are the traces of yesterday that still linger in my soul?
You know what I mean, don’t you? You have them too, right? The “little things” that often stay hidden, only to pop up when least expected.
A memory. A moment. A regret.
Something in today will often be the trigger that reveals something hidden within still lingering from yesterday.
If it’s a good memory, a moment of laughter we can simply remember, smile and go on.
But when it’s a regret…then what? I was faced with that very recently. Just yesterday, in fact.
In the midst of homeschooling, it was a seemingly inconsequential comment, a slight bit of attitude from my youngest daughter. But in it, I flashed back to many yesterday’s ago. To the years I wrestled daily with Lance. Instantly the regret came. That kid often got “the worst of his mom”. Because he was so much like me, because he pushed every button–even without intending to, because I was so broken and reacted rather than acted, he got the worst of me.
I’d like to think if I knew how it was going to end–with his death at 18, it would have been different. I would have been more patient, more loving, overlooked so much of what I didn’t at the time. But I can’t know if that really would have been the case.
Often when we are in the moment, we don’t think of how fleeting this moment really is. We don’t stop to remember this will all be over in the blink of an eye. We are simply focused on that moment.
Although I believe present moment living is the fullest way to live. Sometimes in the present, it’s essential we remember there is a future. And what is happening now, won’t last forever. Sometimes we need to pause long enough, right in the heat of the moment to ask, “Will this matter in five years? or even five months?” And sometimes we need to gauge our reaction in light of eternity.
So when my daughter “triggered” those traces of yesterday and the regrets, then grief arose, the immediate temptation was to lash out–in some way, shape or form, so as to deflect the pain. To not have to feel what I was feeling. But instead, the Spirit (Holy Spirit) rose up within me reminding me, I am forgiven for my past sins, I don’t have to react today to the traces of yesterday, and it’s perfectly alright to feel and grieve.
And so.
I let the slight attitude be overlooked (after all, she had no idea what was transpiring inside, or what she had triggered). I walked away. I took comfort for my grief in the only way that truly comforts me, being real, raw and honest before God. He doesn’t require me to be strong or forget how much I miss my son. He doesn’t ask me to ignore the pain of the past in light of the hope of tomorrow. He understands this in between. And what completely amazes me is He gives healing from yesterday, strength for today, and hope for tomorrow all at the same time. That is the ultimate definition of present moment living, don’t you think?
Forgetting the past is impossible. Learning and growing from it is optional. We all have the choice. And that choice begins with what will we do when the traces of yesterday–the unpleasant ones–arise? Will we face and work through them? Or will we attempt to outrun and bury them?