Oh, not to worry...
It's not a medical thing...it's a selective memory thing.
Yesterday, Amy and I sat in a recital hall at Baylor University and listened to Mozart. I closed my eyes and thought back...not to the song written some 240 years earlier, but to the young woman performing it on the oboe.
She was beautiful, poised, so grown up. An adult with a love for music.
But I couldn't see her clearly.
All of our kids have musical abilities - caveat added: they're my stepchildren which explains why they are so good at mastering music, and I am not.
Lisa, our youngest at 22, is the one who has chosen to make music a part of her career. The others are pursuing stronger passions...and doing fine.
I have attended more concerts, recitals, band competitions, half-time shows and the like than I can possibly remember. Many of them I watched through the lens of a video camera.
Yesterday, I chose not to bring a camera...I wanted to listen, absorb, and "experience" Lisa's performance. I assured myself that would be memory enough.
But my vision is blurry.
Although I could see this confident musician on stage clearly and I could hear the wondrous melodies she has mastered...in my mind's eye I saw and heard something else.
I saw the little girl whose "first" concert I attended 13 or 14 years ago. At that time Lisa thought she wanted to play the violin and she, along with 4 or 5 other kids in her elementary school, were on stage screeching out a rendition of something. I don't recall the tune...that may be selective memory at work too.
I remember though that we applauded, and encouraged.
Lisa left the violin behind, chose woodwinds and soon became dedicated to the oboe.
As I watched and listened yesterday, my thoughts kept flashing back to little girl with blond hair, bright eyes and a perpetually cheery smile from what now seems so long ago. I can still her so clearly.
Admittedly, at times I teared up a bit.
As Amy and I drove home, I thought about God and me.
I'm nearly 50. I am a flawed man on a journey to become less so. At times it has been a long, hard road. I have become lost and I have stumbled. There are scars which occasionally still resonate.
Yet, there was a time when I was carefree and frolicking with unlimited opportunities and potential. Sometimes that time seems so long ago, other times it still seems within reach.
Sometimes, such as yesterday, my road doesn't seem to matter at all.
It's the journey in front of the children I love that matters most.
I hope it's that way for God too.
I pray that when God sees me, sometimes He closes His eyes...and sees the child I once was, in addition to the man I hope to be...and He applauds, and encourages.
His vision I know is perfect.
"Whoever welcomes this little child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. For he who is least among you all - he is the greatest."
