A recent magazine article evoked memories of something that happened thirty years ago, a short chapter in my life I had not thought about in all these years.
As I allowed the scene to play out in my mind, certain details of the people involved came into sharp focus. I remember the names and faces of people who were part of my life for only a few months.
Two men came into my life because one of the men was dying and needed a place to go for the final weeks of his life. I was living in a guest house and was happy to welcome them during this difficult time.
Once this memory resurfaced, I let it play out, allowing the scenes of everyday life with these two men to present themselves. I recalled the people who came to visit them, and I remembered one visitor in particular whose fidelity I greatly admired.
And then I asked God what invitation this memory is offering me. Why now? Why these people and their situation? Why such sharp details?
St. Paul encourages us to forget the past and move on to the future (Philippians 3:13), and I get that. But sometimes the past can hold an invitation or a gift that is helpful to the present.
I have chapters in my past that I would rather not revisit—dark times when I behaved badly and did hurtful things. But just because I try to ignore them does not mean they go away. And sometimes revisiting them can offer a clue to some healing that I need now.
Evelyn Underhill prayed, O Lord, penetrate those murky corners where I hide memories and tendencies on which I do not care to look, but which I will not disinter and yield freely up to you, that you may purify and transmute them.
I have been praying this prayer for the past six months or so, and maybe God is answering with memories like this one from thirty years ago. Maybe it is revealing a tendency on which I do not care to look but which needs to not only be looked at but offered to God for healing.
Underhill ends her prayer, Lord, I bring all these to you, and I review them in your steadfast light.
For me, the goal and the gift of the spiritual life is freedom—the freedom to live with open hands, accepting whatever comes to me. To do that, I need God’s light to shine a spotlight on those places where I am unfree—my comfort zone.
God invites me to move beyond my comfort zone and to face what limits my freedom.
Unfortunately, a large portion of my comfort zone is filled with negativity and insecurity, and I struggle to see my own goodness.
God invites me to replace negative self-talk with affirmations.
Maybe this memory came back to me to remind me of my generosity in giving this man a place to live his final days.