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Memories are amazing things, and even more amazing are the seemingly innocuous little situations that stir them up in all their multicolored grandeur.

Like seeing the color pink. For me a flood of images from an evening carnival excursion comes to mind, complete with the all consuming sweet smell of cotton candy and the taste of it melting on the tongue. Or, my first time at a baseball game where I could buy bags of the stuff that made my hands sticky and tacky in the heat as I watched pitch after pitch, and run after run trying to make sure my hair didn’t stick to my fingers or my face or the glob of gossamer pink when the wind blew my way

Some memories aren’t so sweet. Recently, my son and I took a drive up a mountain highway so I could take photos for a story I’m doing about off the track swimming holes. You know the kind, those that you stumble on when you’re out walking in the woods or driving on an out of the way road and see a sign that says Elephant Rock Lake. When you go there you find an amazingly refreshing oasis surrounded by granite boulders among the trees.

We sat eating lunch near a stream at one of these wonderful out of the way locations. The stream rustled softly and the sun spread warmly on my back as I started to think about the last time I had driven this highway through the Sierra’s with my heart’s love, who is now gone but not forgotten.

Most of us have had this type of love in our lives. You know that one love, the one you can’t conceive of ever breaking, but if it does break, it breaks your heart into a million pieces making you wonder what fool coined the phrase ‘it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’. Because to never have loved at all means your heart isn’t riddled with scars and missing bits after it’s been put back together.

It was when these thoughts were running around my head, that I saw the fish. A dark grey spot struggling feverishly as it tried to get upstream to its spawning ground. Because of the snow melt, the run off was quick and ruthless as it pushed the fish back, but time and time again the fish pushed forward sometimes fighting so hard it splashed up out of the water before it settled back underneath the surface to continue its struggle.

The struggle made me think of my heart’s love and how many times it felt like I was swimming up stream just to make it work. But, there is no rhyme nor reason to love and sometimes we fight for things we really were never meant to have, only to find after the experience nearly kills us that we still look at it through the fractured lens’ of the rose colored glasses our hearts still wear.

It’s when some of our memories lie on the other side of those broken tinted glasses and the truth lay somewhere else that we need to rely on God’s sight so we can see the truth of the matter.

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?”

English Standard Version

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