04 Jun Blessed Forgetfulness
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I peered through my spectacles as I wandered through the supermarket trying to remember what items I needed to buy. I had forgotten my grocery list at home, just like I seemed to be forgetting everything these days. My daughter had been worried I was getting Alzhemiers but I assured her that it was nothing of the sort. I was just getting old. But this forgetting things could be very annoying though. Aha! I had found it. I needed to buy another carton of milk to replace the one that got finished yesterday. As I put my purchases in the basket and headed towards the counter, a young man stopped me.
“Good morning ma’am,” he greeted me. I responded with a hearty good morning wondering if he was one of the teenagers I thought in Sunday school but he looked much older.
“I’m sure you don’t remember me madam but my name is Peter.”
I shook my head. I was no good at remembering names either.
“I lived next door to you when I was a child. You were raising chickens then,” he prompted me. “I was the naughty boy in the neighborhood.”
I smiled and tried to remember. Nothing came to mind.
“You were?” I asked dumbly.
“Yes ma’am. I was actually responsible for killing all your chickens at one time and the destruction of your barn.”
Something jolted in my brain. Yes, I did remember. Francis and I had just got married and I wanted to start poultry and we kept some cows in the barn. However there was a little boy beside us that seemed to have other ideas. First, he started with stealing the chicks himself and a few friends. I caught him only once but he denied it. His parents just gave a non-committal reply when I warned them about their son. Still, my chicks kept disappearing. One day, when my chicks were getting bigger, he left the poultry door open and a stray dog came in and killed all my chickens. I confronted him but he denied it yet again. On another day he and his friends played some pranks and spoilt the barn door. A cow escaped but we were able to get it into the barn. I was very angry but I remember Francis telling me not to take it to heart and to forget about it. I smiled to myself. I was going to tell my granddaughter that I still remembered a lot of things.
Peter spoke. “I can’t forget how nice you were to me afterwards. Even though I denied my actions, you pulled me to yourself and told me you forgave me and that you were going to forget about it. You even gave me a pie to take home. Your actions made a lasting impression on me. Some years later when I heard about salvation, I decided to make a decision for Christ because I knew that only Him could have made you the generous and forgiving person that you were that summer. And obviously you still are ma’am as evidenced by the fact that you did not remember my evil actions till I reminded you.”
I could feel my face stretching into a wide grin as I took his hand and shook it. There were some things one never needed to remember. I was going to tell my daughter. Forgetfulness could be blessed sometimes.