Gossamer clouded memories flit through my mind….the mild and meek interludes of pure joy: the birth of each child; the wonder of Christmas morning; quiet, contemplative, holy moments with God.
The daily staid moments, these are also wisps of gossamer in our lives. We see them through the monotony and cannot quite capture their significance as they occur so frequently: the making scrambled eggs for hungry children and folding soft warm jammies fresh from the dryer moments.
As I ponder the memories, others push their way forward.
The eyes of my son stricken with sorrow at breaking a favored object of mine. At age three, he only knew the tears and anger an accident brought forth. Those grief-filled eyes caused me to reassess my hold on the things of this world and treasure the living.
The memory flashes before me of a note found in my then 5th grader’s backpack…a list of items to take for running away. Being smacked on the head with fear and confusion dominoed into heartfelt talks with him and then his teacher to ultimately find out about a troubled boy my son became friends with and…..how my son follows. During that time, my husband and I wrestled with darkness and fought for our family. We listened, counseled, and loved. Another cord was fashioned from our hearts to our child’s.
The violent moments, the times when we fight for what we care about, grasping the eternal lessons….they are the turning points, the revelations, the weighty heaven on earth interludes where God gets the glory, and we draw closer to Him in our need for His strength and wisdom.
These are the times that – while terrifying, tiring, and hard-fought – thrust themselves upon my memory and burn all the brighter with the gold of eternal treasure. Being a survivor of a violent crime, I remember not the face of my attacker, but the words of the spontaneous prayers on my lips as I spoke aloud and called upon God in heaven. I remember the whispered words of instruction from the Holy Spirit to save my children and myself.
These are the treasured moments I covet. As my children grow and the dryer runs less and my house stays clean longer, I know I will look over the course of their growing up and see not only the days that make up a childhood, but the memories over battles that have kept my faith alive and pushed me toward the prize. They have engaged me fully. They cause me to rise up and fight for my family, my marriage, and my faith.
Laura J. Marshall is a writer and the mother of five boys. She will be releasing the first book in her Winded From the Walk Series called A Mom’s Battlecry for Rest in 2013. She also writes romantic suspense. She can be found at www.LauraJMarshall.com and on twitter at www.twitter.com/LJMarshallWrite.