One of Benjamin's best friends had a birthday. His gift to her was wrapped and ready two days ahead, with a message he composed himself. He told me that it made her laugh. She has been reminding him for a month, lest it slip his mind. No worries there, as Ben has a tendency to recall birthdays and events as reliably as most people
know their phone passwords.
"When is the last time we went to Uncle Roy's house?"
"November 28th."
It is fun for me to name people
in his orbit, and have him respond with the day they were born. I actually do forget the day my mother died, but he has that covered.
My husband is not so focused on birthdays, or wrapping gifts. But I enjoy asking him about passages from scripture.
"Where is the story of the tabernacle?"
"Exodus 25."
"How about the calming of the sea?"
"Matthew 8, and Mark 4."
I bring these abilities to mind when I might have occasion to be annoyed that John forgets to close cupboards, or Ben neglects to say thank you to his friend who took him for a walk.
I notice that God has selective memory as well. He knows my name with a
permanence that will outlast even a tattoo.
"See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands."
Yet there are other things, mistakes, like rocks that I stuff in my pocket to carry regret when I should have emptied them. God claims
amnesia.
"For I will forgive their iniquity, and their sin I will remember no more.” Jeremiah 31