Fighting Memory Loss

A few years before her death, my grandmother developed short-term memory problems similar to what Alzheimer patients suffer. She repeated stories, forgot where she put things, got frustrated when she couldn’t recall her train of thought. Yesterday eventually didn’t exist for her anymore, much less 3 hours earlier. But ten, twenty, fifty years ago–those memories remained relatively clear and accurate.

My memory loss isn’t split into short- and long-term. When it comes to things of God, I just plain forget. Long ago, last month…if I don’t tell the story repeatedly or write it down, I know that I will eventually forget what He did for me.

It happened to the Israelites, who had to be reminded by the prophets of all that God had done for them. God had even provided them a way to remember certain crucial events–the rock altars built after the crossing of the Jordan, Jacob’s wrestling bout with the angel, and more. Visual markers gave parents the opportunity to tell their children the stories of how God had intervened in the life of their nation. A culture of oral tradition also helped–stories were passed from parent to child, carrying tales from old in order to maintain unity in heritage and faith.

I need those sorts of reminders. Altars are sort of frowned on these days, what with property rights and all. And my culture doesn’t support a formal tradition of verbal story-telling. But the written version–that’s much more doable. A prayer journal can record my requests to God and the answers He provided–and when. As a visual learner, I value seeing those items on paper (or screen, I suppose). Just like reading old diaries cracks me up or makes me cry, a prayer journal can provoke worship. Look at what God did for me here. I’d forgotten that He answered that prayer so quickly!

For instance, this past week I had two small prayer requests answered. First, my husband was attempting to return home from Chicago by flying standby. The list was over 100 people long, and he kept getting bumped back–not forward up the list! We started getting concerned around 7pm when there were only three flights left and he was still #44. It was not life-or-death that he get home that night, but I prayed he would for the sake of our children, who missed their daddy after a 10-day absence. (OK, I wanted him home, too!).

How did he get home, and when? If I don’t write it down, I’m going to forget one day that God sent an unscheduled plane into Chicago at 8:30pm and diverted it from Denver to our airport–with dozens of empty seats. He got home before the final scheduled flight! (Bonus–he even found his checked luggage waiting for him.)

My other answered prayer: my preschool-aged daughter will be the flower girl in her aunt’s wedding this weekend. Last night was the rehearsal, but the night before she woke up with a fever and cough. I prayed she would feel well enough to participate. I know that children rebound quickly, but her rapid improvement astonished me. No fever all day, lots of energy, even cooperation with the wedding coordinator. I was delighted! And thankful.

Neither of these examples are earth-shattering. Why do I want to remember them? Because God came through. He, not my little requests, deserves to be remembered. He cares for me and my family. And while the Bible tells me He loves me, answered prayer shows me His love. I need both reminders.

I’m exhorting myself as much as you readers–write it down. Keep a prayer journal. Jot those requests down and go back to fill in the answers when they come. Don’t become like the forgetful Israelites who let fade the memory of God’s great involvement in their history.

Should my memory become faulty like my grandmother’s, I want my journals to witness to me of God’s love and care. I’ll be amazed every time I read them!