I've always admired elephants. It's a little complicated to explain to people (they always jump to "that's weird" before they hear the whole reason), but if I were able to choose an animal to be, it would be an elephant. I love that they remember things; that they commemorate them. I do that as much as I can, but I'm not as good as an elephant.But there are moments when I curse my elephant memory. When a conversation overheard about taking time off for a funeral sends me immediately back to a snowy January morning when I called my manager and asked for more time off because Keren had died.
And I'm there. And I'm grieving all over again. And I'm reliving that morning through my elephant memory.
And then I'm thankful. Thankful that that phone call to my manager was made from Michigan, not from Pennsylvania. That I was there, with my sisters and brothers-in-law and friends and family. That I did not have to get those phone calls when I was alone or drive or fly there by myself.
Mercy. It's a memory of His Mercy.
