The Holder of Who I Really Am

There are nights I wake up when I feel like I am on the cusp of a long forgotten memory. It feels bittersweet to me, like a gift that for a moment my mind almost had access to days past, but also a reminder that your days, weeks, years go by, and it is almost as if they never happened. I don't remember any of it, and most certainly no one else will remember it for me.

I understand why people feel compelled to journal their days, as a way to try to keep oneself from disappearing all together. It's also partly why big events, like marriage, the days our children are born, or being publicly recognized for one's accomplishments are such a big deal to us; those are days that are etched deeper into our minds and become gifts of memory.

Most of my biggest battles are quiet achievements no one knows about but me. They are experiences I don't care for any other humans to know about, and yet they define me with the roads taken or not taken.

I always hope I will be able to hold on to those cherished moments, because for me they are ultimate victories of either choosing not to do a tempting wrong thing, or of fighting through to do the right thing, despite a sinful inclination to do just the opposite. Those are the memories I trust Jehovah to hold for me. He knows my daily fight, and he remembers when I succeed. He is the holder of who I really am, even when I forget.