Fading Memories: When We Can’t Hang On to Every Moment
A notification pops up on my phone: See your memories from four years ago! As I swipe through the images, guilt slowly presses upon me. The smaller versions of my children on the screen remind me of all I’ve forgotten. Trips to the zoo, blanket forts in the living room, and silly dress-up costumes that slipped in the haze of my memory.
Perhaps you’ve felt this way too. Whether it's flashbacks on social media or baby books on the shelf, these pictures tell the story of the life we can’t fully remember. We might react to this disappointment with greater resolve: We’ll do better to remember. We’ll be more present, as if that will cement the moments in our mind. We’ll work harder to create unforgettable moments that will guarantee permanence.
But before we attempt to counteract our failing memory by the power of guilt, let’s revisit what God says both about our lost memories and our job as mothers.
Yes, We’ll Forget
Moms are often told to treasure every moment with our children. Our culture encourages us to build unforgettable memories to hold on to when our kids have grown. Yet amidst these ideals, we must remember that God created us human. As much as we’d love to hold on to every precious moment with our children, we won’t get to. Some memories will slip away. Our Creator made us in his image, yet he also bestowed limits upon us. He created us to sleep and to need water and food to grow. He fixed our physical boundaries to a single location and a single time. He created us embodied by flesh, and that flesh comes with limits.[1]
This stands in stark contrast to our heavenly Father who knows no boundaries. His boundless presence and knowledge highlight the glory of who he is against his limited creation.[2] Our Creator never grows weary or forgetful, and his understanding is unsearchable.[3] Smartphone apps may try to trick us into believing that god-like omniscience hangs within our own grasp; with a little extra effort, we can rise above any limitation. But we are not computers, and though we can use these tricks and tools to increase our productivity and recall, ultimately, we’re all forced to concede to our humanity.
Our limits as creatures only intensified after the introduction of sin in the world. The fall stained all of creation—even down to the neural connections in our brain. And so, we forget. We forget that sweet conversation with our child in their room two years ago. We can’t recall the time our son faithfully persisted to climb up the top of the slide. Over time, the connections to these memories slowly fade from our grasp despite our desires to hang on.
These fading memories don't warrant our shame, though. They are the natural results of our limits as creatures, along with the consequences of living in a world broken by the fall. Instead of being instruments of guilt, our fading memories press us closer to our Father in Heaven. We are limited, yes—but he is limitless. And that transforms our perspective on who we are and what our job as a mom really entails.
God Doesn’t Need Us to Remember
Ultimately, we find rest in knowing we don’t have to remember every memory with our children. God doesn’t need us to.[4] Those precious moments happened, and the Lord is able to use them for our child's good whether we remember them or not.
It’s tempting to believe we can control the growth of our children, because in some ways we can. We teach them how to tie their shoes, measure out flour, or count to one hundred. As moms, we want to guide our children well, and lost memories often convince us we’ve dropped the ball. We’re not a good enough mom or we didn’t make those memories special enough. Yet ultimately, we are merely instruments in the hand of our children’s true Shepherd. He is guiding their sanctification throughout their whole lives, and we can rejoice that their growth isn’t dependent on us.
That conversation we had with our children that slipped our mind? The Lord might have used it to strengthen their faith in ways we’ll never know. That night we can’t remember dancing in the kitchen with our kids? The Holy Spirit may have used that moment to cement the reality of the joy of the Lord in ways they’ll carry with them their whole life. Our God is no stranger to employing the foolish things of the world for his own handiwork.[5] What better way to show his glory than to use a host of small, forgotten moments in the lives of our children?
Of course, we’d love to remember every treasured moment with our children. We can grieve the reality of our limits and the broken world that keeps us from remembering more. Yet, we can also find hope and rest in the truth that our Lord will never forget to grow our children in the ways he needs to. He has been and will continue actively guiding our kids—leading them like a gentle shepherd to the truths they need, at the exact moment they need them.[6] We can entrust every sweet memory to his care.[7]
The next time a memory we’ve forgotten pops up on our phone, let’s not beat ourselves down for having limits. Instead, we can thank God for the moments he’s given us and for his gentle guiding of our children, whether we remember the means or not.
[1] Gen. 2:7; Ps. 78:39; Ps. 103:14
[2] 1 Kings 8:27; Prov. 15:3; Jer. 23:24; Ps. 147:5
[3] Is. 40:28
[4] Acts 17:25
[5] 1 Cor. 1:27
[6] Ps. 23
[7] 2 Tim. 1:12
