Jerry and I just celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary! Now, that may not seem like much and being the gray-haired duo we are, most are expecting us to say we’ve been married forty plus years, but the treasure of liking and loving one another after the journeys each of us has been on, is such a blessing.
Jerry, being the history buff he is, had never been to the Smithsonians in Washington, D.C. So, in addition to spending a few rich-like-Belgian-chocolate-days with my roommate from college, Pat, her husband, Chito—a new friendship has formed between him and Jerry (it’s like they are BFFs)—and their sweet family, for our anniversary, Jerry and I spent the second leg of our trip exploring D.C.
It was wonderful! Staying in a historic hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue, we could walk most everywhere, a hop, skip, and a jump away from the White House and museums. But for places like the Library of Congress and The Hill that were a bit farther, there was the Metro. Regardless, if we were close enough to a destination or had to take the Metro, there was walking, walking, and more walking, and for those who know me, that is a bit of heaven. Not only do I get the much needed exercise, but there is the benefit of eating most anything without paying the penalty. It borders on the edge of being sublime!
And the people were so nice. From the twenty-something year-old man who quipped with a most gracious smile to Jerry that “It was all in a day’s work,” when Jerry thanked him for “saving his life” after losing his balance trying to steady himself and our baggage while riding the Metro, to the many friendly and helpful strangers, shop owners, doormen, and waiters, the moments we were there are something we will look back on and smile.
Visiting the museums was amazing. Having grown up in Virginia and having made that memorable sixth-grade class trip where we were unleashed like locusts on an unsuspecting Smithsonian Mall to rip through all the museums in one day, seeing the exhibits now from a somewhat more seasoned perspective, taking the time to really mull over history, was truly a gift. Looking at artifacts, reading the triumphal testimonies of some, and witnessing the horrific deeds of others, facing the past is an ever present reminder of what we can be, but also a signpost, a warning of what to never do again.
At the same time though, it’s easy to get caught up in, and focus on the past. The good ole days sometimes seem so glorious that it is tempting to live there and yet, other times the past is so dark that it’s almost impossible to perceive even the smallest ray of hope .
To live, is to be in the present. I forget that sometimes. Maybe it’s because I’ve gotten bogged down with heavy things on my heart, or that past failures whisper to me from the recesses of my mind, or the same tangle of problems that no matter what just won’t seem to smooth out, much less go away.
Whichever one it is, when I focus on what is wrong, I miss out on the promise that God’s mercies are new every morning. Not because His assurances are not there, but because I am so honed in on myself, His Presence escapes me completely. Even though He could be standing right in front of me, I just don’t see Him.
So…
It doesn’t matter what’s going on,
whether the sun rises or not,
who’s in office,
whether the stock market rallies or falls,
whether the bottom drops out or soars to the heavens,
whether the mountains fall into the sea,
God’s promise is that
He
Is
With
us.
Always.
And His promise tells me His steadfast love never ceases;
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
And He is faithful.
(Lamentations 3:22-24)
Kimberly
