Our memories and our perspective.
Our memories are special. How we remember things from our childhood and reality are not always the same. The summer I was 4, I fell out of a moving car. We were going swimming on a hot summer day. I was in a bathing suit. I rolled across a gravel road, where there was a y in the road. Rolled across both roads of gravel. I was seating in the back seat behind my father. I had minor cuts and bruises on 90% of my body. I remember reaching for the handle, my aunt said I was going to roll down the window. Next thing I remember was waking up in a room, on a table. There was a man in a white coat, with a large tummy, white hair and beard. I remember thinking, Santa is a doctor when he’s not being Santa. At 73, I know there is no Santa. I do believe God was watching me that day. If there had been a car in either road, I could have been killed.
In third grade my teacher was Mrs. Matier. In 7th grade she was my gym teacher. She retired before I started ninth grade. In my 20’s I was working as a cashier. An older woman was going to pay with a check. ID was required, so I asked to see hers. She said, “Marsha, don’t you remember me?” When I learned her name, my thought was when did she get so short! She barely reached my shoulder. She didn’t become short, I grew taller.
Our prospective changes as we mature. So does our walk and relationship with Christ. When we first accept Christ, we are babies. We know nothing or very little of God. When I was a child, I thought as a child, from a child’s prospective. We learn, we grow with the help of the Spirit. The growing experience makes us stronger in our faith.
I fine it fun when we kids get together retelling stories of our youth how everyone remembers something different in each one.
But really...there is no Santa? O'well, I'm still learning.