What
I don’t remember must fill volumes
I’ve
started the endless task of going through the stuff jammed into my office
closet. I did a few of the boxes from
the floor—thank goodness for my son who can lift heavy boxes of papers, books,
and miscellany—and now have turned to the top shelf. Sunday’s sorting included pages from my
Franklin Covey planners of 1999 and 2000 as well as random cards, notes, and
letters from the 1990’s.
The
planning pages reveal the schedule of the busy single mom I was. My planner was my brain and to-do list on all
fronts: work, home, and church. I jotted down work meetings, student
appointments, lesson planning reminders, and notes about which stack of essays
to read and grade first. Occasionally, I
see a familiar student name, but most are minus the facial recall. Grocery lists reveal my penchant for shopping
the specials and using coupons, though I had forgotten about buying ten packets
of Kool-Aid for a dollar. Doctor
appointments, school activities, packing lists for family trips, phone calls to
make, board meetings and committee meetings to attend, Bible studies to lead .
. . you get the idea. There was even a
lengthy Bible study on Exodus that appeared to use several sources. I don’t remember preparing the study or
leading the class.
Evidently,
I was involved in a coffee prayer (or was it prayer coffee) group that I
sometimes led. There are prayer lists
for people I do not remember and Sunday notes from sermons long gone from my
memory. A stray poem or church
newsletter rough draft or committee report show up here and there. Unfamiliar names to call or projects to lead
or tasks to undertake: it’s all in the planner.
I
keep only a few pages for future reference—the date I received my first (and
incorrect, it turned out) diagnosis for the pain and fatigue that dogged my
days. The day Joseph broke his foot at
Taekwondo class. A sad poem, an upbeat
Faith Promise testimony. The rest, literally hundreds of pages, I throw away.
The
random assortment of cards and letters from friends warm my heart, as do the
homemade cards and notes my children made for me. So much love, so many blessings that I had
forgotten.
And
there is more to come.
