A Hummingbird in Memory Lane

I have been taking a little trip down memory lane. On Friday, Steve and I came back from an evening walk to discover a hummingbird in my flower bed. It was really unusual because though I know this is a place they can be found, I think I've never seen one here in the city. And it was late at night, dusk was on it's last legs. In fact, I almost thought it was a moth, but the flight pattern is so distinctive.

Hummingbirds are my favorite bird. I love them. And it reminded me of another time when I saw one, way back. Hummingbirds are rainbows are two things that God sometimes seems to "send" my way as a reminder of His love and faithfulness, and I knew I had actually written a journal about that other time when I saw a hummingbird.

So I started pouring back through my old journals, which is a task, let me tell you! I couldn't find the entry about the hummingbird, but I sure found a lot of other stuff. I found the journal written right around the time I took the leap of faith, applied for a job up North, and ended up in Oxford House. I found old heart aches and losses and disappointments. I found entries about camp. And about old boyfriends. About university. I found old failures and struggles. I found lessons I'd learned and some that I "relearned" several times. And some beautiful stuff too. Some fantastic times. I believe the general feeling is called "nostalgia." Though sometimes the yearning for the past was more of a relief not to be there!

Mostly I realized how much I had changed, or at least how much my life had changed! It was a strange feeling.

And it made me wonder about "The Question." Which I do occasionally anyway. If I could go back in time, would I change things up? Would I still end up married to Steve, and the mother of a child who is terminally ill? Well, the nice answer would be to say "No! I wouldn't change a thing!" But really, sometimes it is tempting, when things get tough, to think the OTHER way. Think about how great it was BEFORE all the pain and loss and sadness. When I could go out when I wanted and have fun, be carefree. When people described me as spirited and lively, bubbly, even "plucky." When I was thin and had long hair, nice clothes and good make up every day. Ya know?

Well, the journals were a good thing for me, in a strange way. Yes, they were full of happy times and good memories. But they were full of other stuff too. They were full of the inner workings of my heart, not just how it looked on the outside. So I shared my insecurities there. And the times I was lonely. Or felt a failure. The things that I struggled with. They were a more realistic picture of what my past was.

And it was great. Lots of good stuff. But going back there would mean becoming that person once again. It would mean I would feel wonderfully thin, and pretty, young-spirited and bubbling over with life. (Yeah, I don't feel like that much anymore. Grief can take the fun out of life and kids can take the thin and pretty out of you too!) That part sounds good.

But I don't really like the trade off. I'm done with the struggles and problems from that time of my life. I don't want to go back there. There was also lots of less that great stuff about the person I once was. I don't want to trade back the me I am now for the me I was then. (if only I could trade back the body and keep the experience!!)

Partly because I AM still that person. Underneath all the grief, I'm pretty sure there may still lurk some spirit, maybe a sense of humour and fun. And because letting God take you places in life doesn't make you LESS of you. The blows of life chip away and refine the picture, making you MORE into the person God always intended you to be.

Hammer blows are not fun. They are painful. But I don't want to stop the process, turn it back, or mar the finally product. I want to see this all through, to the end. I don't want to lose the maturity that will be formed, that I can already see from looking back in my journals.

And most of all, because as hard as this is, loving Joel and losing him, it is a privilege. I've said it a million times, if I could cure him I would. But I'd never, never choose to give him up over having him in my life. Or Caeden. Or Steve. They are the family God has given me, and I love them. This is where God wants me to be. In the end, that is good enough for me. I wouldn't trade that place for the world.