Description
Monologue: Memories
Sometimes my memory is really clear but as I get older it sometimes slips a bit.
Nothing unusual there, they tell me.
But when I think about it sometimes I doubt the memories themselves.
Do I really remember being pushed by mum and dad in my push-chair by the harbour?
Or did they tell me that they'd taken me there?
Did they repeat the story so often it became as real as if I'd really remembered it?
I wonder if it matters anyway. I know I exist and they, mum and dad existed. The harbour is real. I can go back there. What matters is not whether it really happened or not I suppose. What matters is that mum and dad cared enough to take me there, to give me good memories that speak of their care and love. I'm grateful for that.
So when the Jews rehearsed the story of an escape from Egypt, the plagues and the parting of the sea; when year by year at Passover children ask about their history the memory is told and told again. And it feels real, very real. But I guess what actually matters is the assurance of God's love, God's providence and care.
Continues...
Andrew Pratt (born 1948)
Words © 10/2/2013 Stainer & Bell Ltd, London, England, www.stainer.co.uk.
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