I don’t ever want to forget.
I don’t mean the mess, the scary unknown, the waiting, the machines, the bad news.
If only I could forget that part.
What I’m afraid of forgetting is how the Lord healed Graham. However He did it, whatever He said or thought; He did perform a miracle in my husband. I saw it with my own eyes. I witnessed it everyday for weeks. Months. I had a front row seat to it all.
And yet, I’m guilty of getting used to it. Shrugging it off as normal. Usual.
I am guilty of forgetting.
We read and re-read all the miracles that are recorded in His word. We listen as preachers preach about them. Again. And again. And again. We continue to smile each time Jesus turns water to wine. We picture it in our minds and hearts, our imaginations all a bit different, unique. We even wish we could’ve seen it for ourselves, firsthand.
Good for the guy filled with demons, his soul tormented relentlessly, his body naked and scarred from their abuse. Great for the girl who didn’t stay dead, her lungs filling back up with breath and life. Tears from her parent’s must’ve drenched her hair and clothes while they clung to their miracle, happy for more time with her. They were grateful. Thankful.
It touches a lot closer to our hearts when it’s one of our own. Things change when it’s your husband. Your mother. Father. Child. You won’t forget that as easily. It sticks a little harder. A little longer.
Still, do you ever think of those touched by Jesus, those healed? After a time did they forget how unique it all was? How unusual? How extraordinary?
Maybe it was the friend of the blind one. The wife of the leper. The nephew of the cripple who one day wasn’t so thankful, who one day stopped remembering the importance of it all.
I sometimes watch Graham. Secretly, quietly, when he hasn’t a clue. I stand over him just gazing while he sleeps, exhausted from his day, too tired to continue on anymore. Other times it’s when he’s being a dad, playing with the kids, sitting on their level, making eye contact with them and asking them silly questions.
He was holding Fallon the other day when I chose to watch them, her little body easy for him to carry because she’s sturdier now and loves it when her dad reaches for her. Her pointer-finger instantly goes to her mouth while the other hand forms a fast grip onto his ear. He started slow dancing with her, circling round and round. While he doesn’t quite possess the same smooth movements he once did, she’ll never know. She’ll never question. She’ll never know the difference.
The realization hit me all over again of all the Lord has done in Graham. My eyes instantly filled. Tears of thankfulness, remembrance and humility threatened to spill over.
He once wasn’t even able to stand up, let alone sway to some unheard imaginary song in his head. They were smiling; her grin filled with those few teeth, ones that like to clamp hard on anything brave enough to enter.
I felt overwhelmed by my prior selfish and earthly desires. I had been caught red handed in apathy and indifference to exactly what the Lord did for me.
And not in just healing Graham, giving his life back for me to enjoy and have a few more days with on this planet.
It was more than that. It’s so much more.
Don’t forget what the Lord has done, what He continues to do. In your life. In mine. In your church, school, town.
He continues to work. He continues to perform miracles. Even now. Even still.
Choose to see them. Choose to remember them. Choose to believe them.