"And Don't You Forget That"

"Lord, help ... I've looked this house over and my derned brassiere ain't nowhere to be found. Land o' Goshen, I've done gone and lost my derned brassiere."

That particular telephone conversation with Mom many years ago as I drove home from work was without question one of the more comical ones we had concerning the plethora of items she routinely misplaced as she grew older. From her false teeth to her pill boxes to her checkbook to her door key to her ... well ... to even her brassiere, Mom was constantly forgetting where she had put things. The puzzling thing to me, however, was that in every other area of her life, Mom's mind and her memory remained as sharp as a tack until the moment she drew her final breath. When I would tease her about her forgetfulness, she would give me "the look" and say, "There ain't a derned thing wrong with my memory! I just got me a case of can't find nothin'-itis, that's all." 

Though my doctors assure me that my now ever-present lack of short-term memory is a common side effect of a couple of the meds I take each day, it scares the heck out of me because my dad had Alzheimer's disease. It's one thing to forget to purchase a couple of items I meant to get at the grocery store, but it's another thing altogether when I tell someone I'll call them back in a few minutes and then completely forget to do it. Thankfully, I'm blessed to have people in my life, both family and friends alike, who have hearts filled with patience, grace and understanding. I will be forever grateful to those people who not only forgive my forgetfulness, but who also take time out of their busy lives to help make sure I don't forget the things that really matter. People who remind me that even during the times when that old nasty depression beast rears its ugly head, they need me ... they depend on me ... they value me as a person ... they love me just the way I am.

It's perplexing to me that things I so desperately desire to remember seem to be the ones that so easily slip from my memory, while the things I so desperately want to forget are the ones that appear to have seared themselves into the deepest, darkest crevices of my mind. There are times when I struggle to remember that I matter and that I make a positive difference in the lives of others ... times when no matter how hard I try, I simply cannot forget the feelings of worthlessness or the fear that I'm harming others rather than helping them. It's in those times ... those times of feeling invisible at best and despised at worst ... it's in those times that one or more of my wonderful, patient, filled to overflowing with grace and understanding people steps up and helps me to remember that I'm here for a reason. It's when I can't remember the good and can't forget the bad that someone always seems to know exactly what I need to hear when I most need to hear it.

See here's the thing ... we all need some help remembering now and again ... remembering that we matter to others ... remembering that we aren't alone ... remembering that our journey isn't over. We all need to get a note like I did last Friday from my sweet friend Maggie that said, "You're a gift to all of us, Terrie, and don't you forget that." I'm sure Maggie had no way of knowing how deeply her words would impact me or of how badly I needed to read them that day. Maggie is the gift to everyone she meets ... that she is ... that she is indeed. Some things really and truly should never be forgotten, friends ... some things should always and forever be remembered ... some things should never ever be forgotten.

"And don't you forget that."