There are events and experiences that I can remember as if they happened yesterday. Then there are times I can walk into the kitchen and forget why I went there. Passwords are hopeless.


The human memory is a fickle and unreliable thing. We often remember things we shouldn’t, and forget the things we should remember.


Then we feel terrible and unworthy when we can’t remember God’s goodness, faithfulness, and provision in the thick of a difficult situation even though it hasn’t been that long since He was good and faithful in another situation, sometimes exactly like the one we are currently facing?


Well, don’t feel bad. We are in good company. 


The disciples weren’t too good at remembering either.


In Matthew 14 we see Jesus feeding the five thousand-plus crowd from just five loaves and two fish, with twelve baskets of leftovers.


Then in the very next chapter (though I’m not sure how much time has elapsed) they are once again confronted with a large crowd (over four thousand this time) who again need to eat, and the disciples—in all their wisdom—say, “Where could we get enough bread in this remote place to feed such a crowd?” Even though they are sitting there with more food than they had the first time--seven loaves and a few fish.


The situation was exactly the same. The materials available—exactly the same—Jesus--exactly the same--the disciples—exactly the same—bewildered, worried.


Jesus’s response? He took the bread and fish, broke it and fed the crowd. And provided seven baskets of leftovers. 


He didn’t rebuke the disciples for their short memory. He didn’t roll his eyes. He didn’t shake his head in despair. He didn’t give up on them. He just kept loving people and letting them be a part of it.


God knew our memories would fail us at times. This is why He has always provided us with ways to remember. For example . . .


Samuel’s Ebenezer stone (I Samuel 7:7-12)


Various memorial stones erected (e.g. Genesis 28:10-22; Joshua 4:1-8)


The tassels attached to the four corners of a garment (Numbers 15:37-41)


Communion (I Corinthians 11:23-26)


I read recently about a woman who each week writes down something that she is either grateful for that week (an answered prayer, God’s protection or goodness, a blessing) and puts it in a box. Then on December 31st she pulls them all out of the box and reads through them, reminding herself of 52 examples God’s goodness.


I think this is a wonderful idea, but I might take a peek or two before the end of the year — just to remind myself a bit more often of all that God has done for me. Perhaps you will too.

“When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them on the road through the Philistine country, though that was shorter. [emphasis mine] For God said, ‘If they face war, they might even change their minds and return to Egypt.’” Exodus 13:17


A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my twenty-hour delay getting to England and the consequential events I missed but the opportunities and blessings I achieved.


This week I was reading (again in Exodus) about God’s route to the promised land once the Israelites were out of Egypt and found that not only does God work in delays, but He also works in detours . . . for the good of His people.


I am testament of this.


Graduating high school, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to be either a screen writer or a professional tennis player. My parents thought I would make a good teacher, but like any self-respecting eighteen-year-old, their opinion was the kiss of death for that profession.


So off I went to Southern California to pursue one of my two dreams. Though UCLA and USC would have been the obvious choices for both, they were too big for a small-town girl. When I set my eyes on UC Irvine (then only 10,000 undergrad and grad students total), I felt at home, and after a chance meeting with the Women’s tennis coach, I was sold.


Let’s shorten the story a bit. I majored in English and took every writing class available. (Only one offering was screenwriting.) My tennis improved exponentially, yet I moved further down the ladder as better players enrolled. The future seemed pretty clear. I was not prepared for one and not good enough for the second. So by the time I graduated, I had no idea what I was going to do.


I was accepted into the masters program at the University of Iowa in sports information. I had a place to live and a part time job. Then a man I respected told me my lungs could freeze in Iowa, so I didn’t go. (Never considered the millions already living and surviving there just fine.)


Instead I became the assistant women’s tennis coach and administrative assistant to the women’s athletic director at San Diego State University. Both great learning experiences, but both poor paying.


I then moved into a business position in a start-up company in Santa Ana and hated it, so I started soul-searching. I missed the school environment, English, and tennis. I called home and asked if I could live there for a year while I worked on my teaching credential. (Never thought about kids. It was all about me.) 


Fortunately, my parents said yes, and I returned to Fresno. After a semester of course work, I entered my first classroom on my first day of student teaching (supported by two fantastic master teachers) and have never looked back. I absolutely loved it and loved it till the day I retired.


I have been asked if I regret not having pursued a writing career from the start. My answer is two-fold. First, if I hadn’t gone into teaching, I am not sure what I would have written about. No students—no stories. Second, my teaching career has given me the freedom to pursue the stories and projects I want to write without the weight of making a living attached to it. 


I had my vision and God had His plan. Had I pursued teaching at my parents’ suggestion—had I taken the fastest most direct route—I don’t know if I would have embraced it as I did later, after I had taken the opportunities to pursue what I thought I wanted.


Who knows. I might have been very good and successful at any of those opportunities, but I do know that I landed in a field that I loved and that by the time I made the decision, it was the right one.


Perhaps you have had a similar experience in some area of your life. Either the journey or the destination was not exactly what you had planned, but the result was definitely God directed as He knew the direct route would not have been the best for you.
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If you have, I would love you to share.

I am on a month-long holiday in the UK right now. One day, I accompanied my friend to her volunteer groundskeeping job at the largest cemetery in the UK (and at one time the largest in the world)—Brookwood Cemetery. It covers more than 200 square acres.


Gravestones date back to 1854 but because of the weather, many look much older, with many of the headstones unreadable or falling down and the graves sinking.While beautiful, it has all the markings of a horror film writer’s dream spot. Suffice it to say, you won’t find me there after dark. 


Everything on earth deteriorates and perishes. Our lives are like a vapor (James 4:14), and the overlap that one life has with another is fleeting, so there will come a time when no one on earth will remember our name or visit our gravesite. A sad fate indeed . . . IF--


It was once said that for the non-believers, this is the best life they will have ever have, while for believers, this is the worst life they will ever have. Not only that . . .


BUT . . . for the believer, while those on earth might forget who we are, God will NEVER forget.


And He said He will not forget us in a multitude of ways.


In Hebrews 13:5b, “God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’”


In John 13:3, Jesus said, “And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”


And just as he told Israel--


“. . . I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands . . .” (Isaiah 49:15b-16a) 


—so He will never forgot those of us who have put our trust in Him as well.


In fact, once our names are written in The Book of Life, the earthly reminder of our life on earth is superseded by eternal life and constant companionship with the God of the universe Himself. Forever remembered.

It started so well.

No fog in Fresno, so the flight to Phoenix was on time and smooth. Half-full plane so a seat between me and my row-mate. Nice woman. We chatted. An hour and a bit later, we landed. (I was so proud of that southern airport decision. Missed all the chaos of the mid-west and eastern winter storms.)

A three-hour-plus layover gave me time to stretch my legs, enjoy a chai latte at Peet’s Coffee, and grab a chicken quesadilla — not overpriced! I walked back to the gate with time to spare.
That’s when things began to unravel.

A gate change on a different concourse. I hustled.

I arrived —just in time to hear — “mechanical difficulties”—“Not sure it will go out tonight”—“Will make a decision by 11 p.m.”—“if you have connecting flights, please see us here at the counter.”

The lines formed. Four of them. I didn’t have a connecting flight, but I was interested to see if there was another flight heading to London Heathrow that night.  

I waited my turn — and — long story a tad shorter. There was! Set to leave in two hours if I could go reclaim my bag, get up to the British Airways ticket counter to get a new boarding pass, go through security, and then onto the plane in two hours.

I took the challenge. I didn’t make it.

Back to American with my bag. Back on the same delayed flight. Back to the gate to see what would happen. Back to waiting.

Finally at ten p.m. they called it. Flight out tomorrow at ten a.m. Then two p.m. Then four p.m. I waited. They stopped adjusting. The flight was set—I hoped.

I was disappointed, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. So I checked with one of the  staff to see what was next. Well . . .

A nice hotel voucher. A nice meal voucher. A good night’s sleep.

I arrived at the airport the next day, found the gate and looked around. Where were all the passengers? I counted about 40 of us and 20 crew.  Nice ratio.

I met Guy and Gwen from Yorkshire and we had a wonderful chat while we waited to board. 

They boarded first, but I saw them again. They were easy to spot. They were two of the ten of us who had 150 seats to chose from in the economy section. Needless to say, we all spread out and made the most of it. 

The flight was smooth and service extremely efficient.

Guy and Gwen and I met up again in baggage claim—kind of hard to miss each other—and repeated our good-byes.
In retrospect, the delay offered opportunities and benefits.

I hope I remember this the next time a prayer request of mine doesn’t seem to be coming fast enough. I hope I remember that although I have plans and expectations, some of which I will have to miss, that the delay could bring something unexpected and better. And it will be for two reasons.

First, God wants only the best for us. (Jeremiah 29:11; Romans 8:28; Matthew 7:11; and, of course, the best of all— John 3:16–“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”)

And second, God is never early or late. He is never delayed. His timing is always perfect. (Ecclesiastes 3:1; Proverbs 16:9; Proverbs 3:5; 2 Peter 3:8-9)

I was reading through Exodus the other day and came across the following passage:
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"At the end of 430 years, to the very day, [emphasis mine] all the Lord’s divisions left Egypt (Exodus 12:41).
To the very day! Yes, God is always right on time. No delays . . . just perfection.