Our memories are, at best, so limited, so finite, that it is impossible for us to envisage an unlimited, infinite memory, the memory of God. It is something I want to believe in: that no atom of creation is ever forgotten by Him; always is; cared for; developing; loved.
-Madeleine L'Engle
It creeps into dark moments
when you need some light;
Whimsical it could be,
a sudden sense, emerging,
blooming out of dirt, and rain,
tracking mud on the floor.
Memory brings joy
into unpleasant places
where the shadows are lurking
and troubles are running
full speed at you.
Remembering God's goodness
steers you back
off the dirt track
and you see the marked road
was always right there.
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