I wish I could remember things nowadays. Well, certain things: the little things I loved to recall even if that day itself forgot it’s own history.

I say so because I used to remember everything. Well, everything aside from tasks and appointments.

But birthdays and colors and people and quotes and shirts and pants and moments and seconds and years and before’s and after’s and laughter and tears and happiness and sadness and broken and open and family and friends and foes and familiar and similar and far and wide and close and intimate.

I wish I could remember things nowadays and it’s not actually because I need to know them for everyday life but because I need to know them for everyday me.

I have always taken pride in remembering the obscure things. The little things that I always thought to be big. The feelings and memories and feelings of memories and memories of feelings.

The reason this bothers me so is not because of the people or things that are the subject of what I remember—most don’t realize they’re remembered and even many times they don’t remember what I seem to—the reason it bothers me so is because who I am is inside those things.

Who I am is outside them but still gazing in. Inside them but still arms wrapped around tight. Brushing their hair and saying goodnight. Waving good morning and seeing them later. Loving them wholly and loving them holy. Acknowledging their importance and reminding Time of their history.

Stuck inside that time is the me I was when I could remember them. I don’t remember how to navigate them anymore, I don’t look at the date and think of it’s recorded life or happy birthday to or remember when this or that and that too. This sometimes silly skill but strength I held was always one I took pride. A skill many didn’t care for but didn’t need to in order for me to celebrate them. But now we’ve lost touch or rather, they have been unfairly alienated from their only advocate, their own voice: me.

Illness and medications half mental and half physical: they’ve altered my life, my mind, my memory, my body. They have altered the altar I didn’t realize I prayed at.

Memory has always been my religion and, despite how much I fucking try to get back to it, no matter how many prayers I say on my knees, how many questions I ask and even think I answer: what’s become of me isn’t actually me at all.

The only true thing I remember is what I wish I could and it’s the fact that I am no longer. I am in that past. That’s the one memory that I do recall: that who I’m trying to be is a me I lost.

Who I wish to be, it’s a me that’s not me at all, not anymore. It’s a me I keep forgetting to forget. A me I can’t be.

So, with the same wish to remember how to remember all those little things: I wish, and fail, to grasp that I cannot grasp that girl: the one remembering the world.

I wish I could remember things nowadays. But we can’t always get what we wish for: I keep forgetting that, too.

"So let sudden ruin come upon them! Let them be caught in the trap they set for me! Let them be destroyed in the pit they dug for me. Then I will rejoice in the Lord. I will be glad because he rescues me (Psalms 35:8‭-‬9 NLT)."

David laments the troubles his enemies put him through, relies on God to help him get through it, and offers praises and credit if the Lord gets him out of the mess he is in. With these prayers of David's being part of the Bible, and David himself being a beloved disciple of God's, the notion that brutally honest prayers of lament, requests, and praise for rescue are encouraged. From lessons I have learned over the years through various teachers and media God has exposed me to (including the message at my Vineyard Church last week), there is an additional element I want to incorporate into my prayers. I will ask God for rescue and help, especially when things seem unfair, but I also want to acknowledge that God saving me from my sins through the death and resurrection of Jesus is enough of a rescue. So while I hope for the things I pray for to be done, at the end of the day I am going to surrender to the plan God has for my life, and acknowledge that what He has given me and done for me is enough.

Lord, thank You for the no holds barred examples of prayer from Your servant David. Thank You for not smiting us if we come to You with brutal honesty and broken hearts. Please help me to be this open with You as well, and please also help me to accept that what You have already done for me, and the story You have planned out for me are both enough. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.