Forget-Me-Knots

"What is serious to men is often very trivial in the sight of God. What in God might appear to us as"play" is perhaps what He Himself takes most seriously. At any rate the Lord plays and diverts Himself in the garden of His creation, and if we could let go of our own obsession with what we think is the meaning of it all, we might be able to hear His call and follow Him in His mysterious, cosmic dance. We do not have to go very far to catch echoes of that game, and of that dancing. When we are alone on a starlit night; when by chance we see the migrating birds in autumn descending on a grove of junipers to rest and eat; when we see children in a moment where they are really children; when we know love in our own hearts; or when, like the Japanese poet Basho we hear an old frog land in a quiet pond with a solitary splash-at such times the awakening, the turning inside out of all values, the "newness," the emptiness and the purity of vision that make themselves evident, provide a glimpse of the cosmic dance.
For the world and time are the dance of the Lord in emptiness. The silence of the spheres is the music of a wedding feast. The more we persist in misunderstanding the phenomena of life, the more we analyze them out into strange finalities and complex purposes of our own, the more we involve ourselves in sadness, absurdity and despair. But it does not matter much, because no despair of ours can alter the reality of things, or stain the joy of the cosmic dance which is always there. Indeed, we are in the midst of it, and it is in the midst of us, for it beats in our very blood, whether we want it to or not.
Yet the fact remains that we are invited to forget ourselves on purpose, cast our awful solemnity to the winds and join in the general dance." Thomas Merton's New Seeds of Contemplation

Momnesia (urban dictionary): a condition in which memory is disturbed or lost due to having children.

"Come to me all of you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Matthew 11: 28, 30

Jesus universal call to all who chase after a gaggle of littles...

i am...
weary from toys that magically reproduce when collected...
weary from a laundry pile that gawks at me...
weary from the how-to's of getting 1, 2, and 3 to points A, B, and C...
heavy-laden from the whining of my mouth, more than theirs...
heavy-laden from my plans, perceptions, and expectations wreaking havoc on my Home...
heavy-laden from the office of my head with its lists of to-do's...

Momnesia...there is no cure...the condition only worsens the larger your gaggle grows...

i forget...
i forget if i have taken a shower.
i forget Blue-eyes' Jersey Days.
i forget which little i am calling..."Whitt. No, Mae. Bruce, Yes! I am talking to you."
i forget the date, sometimes the year.
i forget if I have ordered a book or not.
i even forget that I have forgotten.

No cure, but Promise.
'I will give you rest.'

Could our cure be in the forgetting? Is momnesia a grace blessing?
His Promise...I am giving you this beautiful, enormous, magnificent, overwhelming, thrilling, monumental, and scary call of feeding my lambs. Come to me. I will send that head of yours to hell in a hand basket. I will cast your performance of self as far as the east is to the west, that your heart may rise due north.

Momnesia just might be the recalling of God's Truth-memory in me, purpose of heart with renewal of mind. This upside-down God of mine uses the littles to raise me, and it is out of my raising up, my restoration, EVERY SINGLE DAY, that I parent. Motherhood demands nothing less than the collecting of Promise.

Forgetting to remember...
'my yoke is easy and my burden is light'

It is in the forgetting that I remember. I don't have to take myself so seriously because I have a God who is seriously in love with me.

In the forgetting, I remember to catch frogs and turtles who climb...to parade around as a pirate to capture Heaven's treasure for ice cream...to grow Red curls' hair for three years because God gives the boys the best hair and longest eyelashes so why not live out that glory just a bit longer...to let my Cindy-lou Who blow her nose in my coffee every morning as she asks 'What smell like?' (we have the same germs any way)...to soak in all the clothes in that gawking pile with their memories etched in grass stains, blood, and dirt...and, those extra books, well, they just might be for other gaggle-chasing friends who wow me with bravery in the forgetting...

In the forgetting, I remember that the best of Life has no agenda, but purpose.

In the forgetting, I remember Love abounds in His windows and details.

In the forgetting, I remember to play this game of hide and seek. He hides the 'me' as I seek Him in the surprise gifts of Truth bubble-bursting moments.

Blue-eyes sparkles, a willow wisp of a boy-man..."Mommy, Mommy! Did you see that spit bubble pop!?! It is just like a boat sailing on my tongue!"

Jesus' littles on this earth, his disciples, they were sailors; they knew what it was like to be blown by the wind.

"Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you."

When Peter was old, he became a child. He stretched his arms up as Jesus dressed him in robes of righteousness, then carried him place to place. He embraced the forgetting for the remembering. The familiar comfort of the Almighty wind filling his heart-sails blowing him about feeding lambs, building the church amongst the storms. The Rock found peace in the eye of the hurricane.

Momnesia...

Of course, I am crazy because Jesus is head over heels crazy for me.
He loves me so much He turned this world upside down that I may be in this world, not of it. Yes, I am crazy, and by His grace, I get crazier and crazier every day as He undoes the knots of forgetting...

And, all you gaggle-chasers who wow me and make my heart melt over and over with adoration...He is crazy head over heels for you too.

"God created us out of the laughter of the Trinity" Meister Eckhart

To my unseen parent: Create in me a mama who listens much, speaks little, and laughs easy with a willingness to go wherever the Wind takes me. Thank you for using the littles to make me your child day after day. Use them to move me from tasks to the freeing Life-rhythm of the Dance.

"Out of the mouths of infants and children, you declare praise..." Psalm 8:2