Memory Monday: How I Started to Understand

We lived in two apartments before we bought our first house. One before I was too small to remember, but the apartment I remember had two bedrooms. One large for Momma and Daddy and one medium-sized for two girls who were sisters and best friends. A small kitchen with a little counter-top window, perfect for talking with Momma while she flipped pancakes Sunday mornings. And the living room with that big TV and our cozy couches and the big pillow. In the evening, after dinner was done and lounging was done and baths were done, two little girls were tucked into bed. And in that lateness of the evening, although I didn't really know Him at all, didn't really know He knew me, I talked to Him because something told me He was there. No one had ever really told me. I just knew it. Knew by the way Grandma prayed in her old Baptist church and on her knees at night before bed and again on her knees mornings before work. Knew by the way my heart hurt a little when someone used His Name in vain. Knew by the way the world was turning- knew it couldn't all be by some miraculous accident.  So I talked to Him. I remember what I'd say, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, and if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. And God bless everyone up in heaven and everyone down on earth. And God, this is Latrice Nicole Hall. Maybe you don't know me, but I live at 999 Wood Road, Apartment #208. Please keep Momma and Daddy and Meah and Me safe, alive and well. Thank you. Amen."

And I always thought that was our beginning. Always started my story right then. When people would ask, how did you come to know the Lord? I'd say, when I was a child, I prayed to Him. I didn't learn about Jesus till I was 15 and didn't commit my life to the pursuit of God till then, but I always knew He was there.

Funny thing, though, lately memories have been rushing my mind like a flood. Moments I haven't thought about in years gently rocking on the surface of the pool of mind memories. And I think, I think He's saying He knew me long long long before I ever even thought about knowing Him. I think He's saying He's always known me.  Even before the bunk beds and the counter-top window. Before the apartment I don't even remember. Before I was too young to even make memories,  He was making them with me. Funny to think he knows when I got my first tooth, how long it took to break up into the surface of my gums. Funny to think He laughed and looked on as I learned how these legs worked, and fell and rose and fell again. Funny and crazy and wonderfully comforting to know all the memories He holds of us, from before my own Momma felt me kicking inside her womb. From before my own Daddy held me and beheld my little face. Funny, thinking of all the memories on this Memory Monday, that God has of me.

No need to tell Him who you are, or where you live, or what you need. No need to remind Him of the things going on in your life as if He isn't aware. No need to accuse, like Peter in boat tossed by wind and waves, that God sees your circumstances but deoesn't care. He already knows. Knows you. Always has. Always has had memories of you that you don't even have. Funny to think of, and so wonderful, too.

And I think, maybe what He would love, too, is for us to remember Him. Always. Every day and in every way. Remember the memory giver and maker and holder and protector.

I was right...

When I was pregnant with our first child, a friend of mine who has five of her own children, came over for a visit. She complimented the votives and decorating accents dotted around our humble home, and then commented that after the baby was born we wouldn't be able to have nice things. She then told a humorous story of how she once had owned a very nice pair of kitchen shears. One day when she needed them they could not be found anywhere. When she asked each of her five children where they were, not one could recall having ever seen them.  Months went by and one day, out in her yard after the last snow of winter had melted, my friend saw her kitchen shears in the soggy green.  She told me that this was how my life would be after the baby was born.

I, of course, in all my new mommy wisdom (ahem- naivety) assured her that this would not be happening in our household. I would, like a perfect housekeeper/mother, keep track of all of our belongings and no way would my child ever use something incorrectly or play with things I asked her not to.

Today, with a two year-old "helper" in the house, I cannot find:

1. my car keys
2. any of our flashlights
3. the cover to my ipod
4. half of my pairs of earrings
5. the TV remotes
6. my cell phone
7. the remote to our Mac
8. 3/4 the contents of my purse
9. the pack of batteries I just bought
10. and my chap stick

But, I know where my kitchen shears are. So I was totally right. Right?

On this day, choose life.

Dead dandelions grow rampant in the front yard reminding me that we haven't yet done the work to kill those weeds. Windy day blows the seeds in winding patterns. Planting more of what we don't want. Why's the work so hard to kill that which we don't want? No effort at all to let it grow. But time, and sweat and planning and purchasing to flourish the green and kill the weed.  Ah- so much like life inside here, too. No effort at all to let me live unchecked. Multiplying seeds of doubt or discontent or just something not really of Jesus. Words that knock down instead of build up. Thoughts that dishonor instead of glorify. Fears that leave no room for trust. Self image that leaves no space for grace. Deadly multiplying weeds that plant more and more unwanted hardships.  Oh, foolish gardener to let weeds grow so far and let wind scatter bad seeds. I need to tend the soil.

Stop and listen. Read and pray. Sing and be silent. Soak Him in. My words can encourage when He's pouring out of me. My thoughts can be on things that are good and holy and pure when He's leading me there. My fears are diminished before His presence. My image is rooted in my Maker when I take time to ask Him to remind me why He made me, why He loves me. God- He loves me.

And my heart flourishes under that love. If I make myself available, He will tend the soil.


He's a nurturing God. Has a way of stopping the bad from multiplying. Has a way of producing a good crop instead. A good crop from my soil. But I have to be available for Him to tend to me. I have to do the work.

Stop for a moment to ask Him what you are here for. Ask why He made you.

You will hear Him say it's to know Him. And in knowing Him you have life.

Live today.

Ninjas Beware!

Around 2:00 AM this morning, (only a few minutes after Reuben came to bed after ironing his clothes for work*), Reuben and I were very rudely awakened by a rather loud crash from the downstairs. I, of course, was terrified and Reuben quickly jumped out of bed to go and investigate. Remembering the hammer I left on top of the dresser a couple days earlier, I grabbed it and the telephone and crept into the upstairs hallway to listen for noise of a brawl downstairs. (Yeah, that's right, a brawl!) My heart was racing along with my thoughts as I pictured the gang of ruffians (I'm on a roll) that Reuben was facing off against. They, of course, were super sweet ninjas possessing advanced weapons of mass destruction. There were 12 of them and they could jump and freeze themselves in the air and Matrix themselves out of compromising positions. They worked-out 5 days a week and ate only fresh fruits and vegetables and absolutely NO processed foods. This could get ugly quickly.

It was only after several minutes of silence that I began to wonder if my mind had slightly exaggerated the situation. When Reuben returned to the upstairs this was confirmed. He reported that a pan placed precariously on top of another pan fell and made the noise. I listened as I watched him walk into the guest room and put something down.

"What was that?" I asked.

"The iron." He replied non-chalantly, returning the bedroom.

Following him, I asked, "What were you going to do with that?"

"I don't know. It was still hot and the corners are pointy."

Ninjas beware. If you enter this house we will hammer and iron you. You better just keep walking. You don't want none of this.


*I will not be judged on being a poor house wife! I did not know Reuben needed clothes ironed and if I had, I maybe, possibly, would have ironed them earlier.  Besides, we needed that weapon to be hot still. :)