|
|
OUT OF SIGHT...NOT MIND PASTOR DALE FREEMAN It is no great secret that the protagonist named Read Hardin in my DINETAH series of books is me. Not the me that ultimately surrendered to the ministry, and raised a family, and became the spiritual leader of Calvary Baptist Church. Rather, he is the me that would have been if it weren't for that moment when, as a boy, I embraced the Gospel and welcomed Jesus into my life. In the first book, through a series of events, he is allowed to briefly escape from the dark post-Rapture world where he lives to visit a recreation of his childhood. Brilliant sunlight filtered through the thin woven bedspread covering his face. Outside a familiar open window, birds sang and a cool breeze initiated his curl into a tighter fetal position. "Read! Are you going to sleep all day?" The strangely familiar voice of his mother called from down the hall. A voice once thinned by years and then finally stilled; now, it was vibrant, unamused and growing demanding. "Yeah! I'm up!" He rubbed his eyes and focused on his surroundings. There, sitting in the corner, was his old desk, drawers crammed full of magazines and barely hidden dirty clothes. In the other corner, buried beneath a crown of rumpled jeans and sweatshirts was his bookcase, a single chair pushed against it, keeping it upright beneath the weight of its unintended load. His mother stuck her head into the doorway. No longer gray and wrinkled, she was not darkly brunette, a few singular strands of silver barely threading through the well-tended coiffure. There are moments when we all break the bonds of time and soar into the past. Sometimes we are drawn there by guilt, anger or some other unhealthy motivation. However, a visit to the past can also be a good and important thing. A reminder of our roots, and an unveiling of who we are and how we got that way. My mother's recent passing has awakened a lot of memories in me. As I walk through the tiny apartment of my parents, a carefully tended picture on a desk reminds me of a smiling bright-eyed woman, not much more than a teenager, clutching her infant son lovingly in her arms. Old home movies tucked away in a dark closet, their colors slightly faded by passing years, reveal no woman of leisure, but a vivacious wife and mother, committed to a life of dedication to those that she loves. A Baptismal Certificate hanging on a wall reminds me of that hot summer morning when I walked an aisle to embrace a Savior, and glanced back to discover that my parents had followed, birthing a Christian home from which future blessing would flow. Now I find myself in a world where I have never lived before. A place where I can't pick up a phone and call her, or step into a room and look into her smiling eyes. A place where memories are all the more important. So, I assemble them, and protect them, and commit myself to keep them. A time and place passed, and yet always vivid in my heart and mind. One day, of course, I'll surrender my memories. I won't need them any more. I'll step into the actual presence of my lovely Jesus, and there I'll see my mother again. For a split second (as if there would be seconds in eternity) I may not recognize her. She'll be younger, and healthier, and happier than I've ever seen her. There we'll be. My mom and dad, my lovely wife and children, and grandchildren, and hopefully great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren and...... A lot of blessing and life was born that day when we accepted Jesus. Generations touched, changed and ultimately reunited. So, I glance back, but I press forward. I rejoice in what has gone before, and yet I realize that it is nothing compared to what lies ahead. Only for a moment are we parted. "Good night, Mom. I'll see you in the morning!" |
Copyright ©2001 Dale Freeman. All rights reserved.