Remember That?

Reflection by Christine Crawford

Remember when your therapist
guided you under that towering
blue spruce in your imagination
and meditation?

And you sat atop
the fallen needles and rested
your back against the scabby trunk
and plunged your fingers deep
into the cool black soil and inhaled
that peaty musk and closed your eyes
and felt Jesus settle in next to you.

And when the tears fell and the snot
gushed He wrapped his arms around
you and pulled you close and pressed his lips
to the top of your head and when you said
over and over I’m sorry I’m sorry He said
you never have to be sorry for being sad.

And remember when the six-year-old
version of you—the one with the little turtle
on her shirt and plastic sunglasses perched
on her head between stringy pigtails because
she wanted to look cool for picture day—
came to join you under the tree?

And she said she was scared and lonely
and hurt so you scooped her up and rocked
her and swept her sticky bangs back
from her forehead and looked her in the eye
and told her life would be hard and people
would betray and desert and exploit and neglect
and discard and even you would abandon
her for a while but God never would.

And when you came to understand she was worthy
of safety and dignity and kindness you would return
to her because you believed her and loved her
and celebrated her because she was not invisible
and she was not nothin’.

And remember when the current version of you—
the one with the haggard eyes and weary soul
and shattered spirit—realized you had sacrificed
your sacred core to please the unpleasable
and had remained scared and lonely and hurt?

And when you looked over at Jesus He smiled
with such tenderness and He scooped you up
and rocked you and He tucked your frizzy hair
back behind your ear and looked you in the eye
and told you life has been hard and people have
betrayed and deserted and exploited and neglected
and discarded but He never abandoned you.

And when you came to understand that you are worthy
of safety and dignity and kindness He would restore
you back to yourself because He believes you and loves
you and celebrates you because you are not invisible
and you are not nothin’.

And remember when He took both little
you and weary you and set your yearning
faces toward the sky and pointed to the gold
leaves and the purple flowers and the red birds
and the fat clouds and said every time
you feel betrayed or deserted or invisible
just search for these reminders
of my presence and mercy and love

I have placed them everywhere—
tiny promises scattered
like confetti over lonely valleys.
And when you notice them
remember this
remember you
remember me

Remember that?
Remember that.

about the author

Christine Crawford

Christine is a published poet, a freelance writer, and an unabashed theology geek with a heart for the vulnerable. She holds 1.5 master's degrees from Dallas Theological Seminary and loves to help people explore God's upside-down kingdom through art, story, and humor. You'll find Christine on the porch of her creekside cabin with her two dogs (one sinner, one saint), savoring anything involving music, laughter, nature, or words.

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