Nine: Remember

"Where are we going?" she eagerly asked.

He wordlessly reached for her hand, willing her to trust him. She took it and sighed. Again, he'd lead her somewhere and she'd follow him. As they rode the crowded bus, he kept a lively conversation going. His jokes kept her laughing; his smile comforted; his love embraced.

Suddenly his eyes glanced outside and he stood up. They were there-- wherever 'there' was. As they got off, she looked around her, desperately trying to figure out where they were. She hadn't paid attention to what route the bus had taken.

"Where are we?" she finally asked. The buildings were falling apart and garbage littered the streets. This neighborhood was obviously abandoned. She couldn't understand why anyone would come here.

"You'll see," he shrugged and began walking toward a building that had instantly caught her eye. It looked smaller than the others that neighbored it, yet she sensed that inside there were plenty of rooms. It was a brick structure and she was inexplicably drawn to it.

They walked in and a sickening sense of deja vu overwhelmed her. It seemed strangely familiar, but she had no memory of ever being in this part of town. it was a museum; exhibits filled every room downstairs and she immediately knew there were more upstairs. It was deserted. A growing sense of unease increased her heart rate.

He led her to the first room. A bright room. Sunlight poured in through the windows, as if it were purposed to light up the exhibit. It took her breath away. Beautiful photographs capturing green mountains and lush forests. Small homes in the country. A small gasped escaped from her lips. She knew this place. These were memories. Her memories. A small smile crept on her face as she allowed herself to be drawn into those comforting photographs of her childhood. She soon closed her eyes, allowing her memory to create the greatest exhibit.

A gentle tap on her shoulder reminded her that there were plenty of rooms left to see.

"You've realized that this isn't actually a museum. Its your mind and your heart... your memories. Not every room will make you smile like that one did. But I want you to walk through the memories and sort through the pain, glories, failures and joy." He stopped in front of the next one.

A combination of displays were scattered throughout. As she focused on each display she realized what she was being asked to remember. Her firsts. Her first trip to the beach. her first day of school. First week at camp. First basketball game. First camping trip. Then there were other firsts. Her first kiss. First goodbye. First nightmare. First day crying at school. First severed friendship. First broken promise. First grudge. First insecurity. First bitterness. First wall...

She shuddered and tried to walk away, but his gentle touch guided her to the right-- another exhibit. She sighed and took a deep breath. Before she had shaken the sensations from the previous exhibit, the new images began to register in her mind: she was staring at her lasts. Her last school play. Last basketball game. Last night at youth group. Last spring break. last day of high school. A strong sense of nostalgia washed over her as she contemplated all the completed chapters... those seasons that she'd never live through again, and could only revisit in memories.

He reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze. Then he broke the silence, "Next we're going to walk through some specific painful ones." Everything in her recoiled and she instinctively pulled her hand away. She gave her head a slight shake and already felt her eyes watering. She knew which exhibits she'd find upstairs. Change. Her. Him. Africa. Goodbyes. Another him. She blinked real hard, yet the pounding in her chest reminded her that he was waiting for her to follow. And she would... she'd follow him anywhere.

"I'm scared," she whispered, "I don't-- I don't want to see how much healing I still have left to go through. I don't want to be reminded. I wanted to leave it behind. Why must I remember?"

"Because you need to remember if you ever hope to heal," he murmured.

She searched for the right words. Her heart continued to flip violently, causing her thoughts to scatter. Finally she managed, "I don't want to open that door. I don't want to see how much sadness I've locked in there. I don't want to grieve." And even as she said this, she noticed she was already following him up the staircase.

He flipped the light switch on and she didn't notice it illuminate the display as much as she sensed a bright light flooding her soul. A drowning sensation overcame her and her eyes brimmed with tears. Had she really changed that much? Were those all really people she had said goodbye to? Did she really hurt her that much? Did she ever really forgive her? Had she really lied to him? Did she really compromise? Had she really been that stubborn? And had she really pushed him-- her closest friend-- away?

She didn't know she was crying until she pursed her lips and tasted saltiness. She didn't try to move. She didn't attempt an escape. She didn't even look away. She just sat there... in her sadness.

And Jesus simply sat with her, unwilling to lead her out of these memories quite yet, for there were still lessons to be learned.