Meet the Author:
Chautona Havig lives and writes in Californiaās Mojave Desert with her husband and five of her nine children. Through her novels, she hopes to encourage Christians in their walk with Jesus.Guest post from Chautona Havig
āWho are you, again?ā āIām Joeās, daughter. Vyonie.ā My sister pointed to me. āThis is Chautona.ā For some odd reason, the niece she spent the least amount of time with, Aunt Doris rememberedāsomewhat. But she didnāt remember Vyonie from what I could tell. She smiled at me, that amazing, sweet smile Iād never forget. She asked how I was. I always thought that Mrs. Sandersonāmother of John, Alicia, and Carl on the TV show, Little House on the Prairieālooked and sounded like Aunt Doris. Of course, that memory of me didnāt last. A minute or two later, she gave me a big smile and asked if she knew me. It gave me a picture of what it must have been like for my character, Ella Weeksāto wake up every day with these children thereāchildren who knew her, but she didnāt remember. The hurt she caused every time she had to struggle to admit she didnāt know something she probably shouldāagain. So, I thought Iād ask her to tell us about it. Ella: People often assume that the worst part of losing my memory are the memories that disappeared, too. But itās not. A much as Iād love to remember my wedding day, my daughterās first steps, my sonās first words, or that moment I realized I was pregnant with my third, those are blessings that I donāt think about often. No, what hurts most is seeing the pain in my childrenās eyes when they need me to remember something and I canāt. For me, not remembering their first day of kindergarten is an inconvenience. For them, itās a further reminder that if they didnāt tell me, I wouldnāt know them. That without them pushing themselves into my life, I wouldnāt care about them any more than any other human in my path. I do now, of course, but not at first. I hate that they heard David say once, āā¦she doesnāt know me. She doesnāt trust me. She doesnāt know our children. She tries, but she could walk out of our lives tomorrow and never miss us.ā Living so close to it every day, I missed those little bits of pain that I inflicted without meaning to, but when I went with our Bible study to a nursing home and visited with the residents, then I saw it. Women with tears running down their cheeks as loved ones patted their hands and tried to comfort. I heard one man offer to find a womanās father. She squeezed him close and whispered, āItās okay, Daddy. I love you. Iāll see you tomorrow.ā The man promised to try to find her father in the meantime. Those people thereāmost of them didnāt realize they didnāt remember someone important. They didnāt struggle to remember this or that. Their dementia had gotten bad enough that their lives had gone from constant frustration to, by comparison, blissful oblivion. And their families withered with each forgotten face, name, moment. Thatās what my āepisodeā did for my family. It caused them pain that just resurfaced every time something new happened. Pain that I didnāt know I inflicted. And since that visit, I have a greater compassion and awareness of just how amazing and powerful memories are. I also have a greater appreciation for those beautiful words in Isaiah when the Lord promisedā¦ āI, even I, am the one who wipes out your transgressions for My own sake, And I will not remember your sins.ā You see, thereās a lifetime of the sins that Jesus died for buried somewhere in my braināor, at least at one time there was. I know that those sins were in there, because the ones I committed yesterday are there today. The ones Iāve already confessed and been forgiven forāI beat myself up for the next morning. A week later. A month. But the Lord has wiped them clean. I just keep smearing them back out there again as if to say, āBut You donāt get how BAD I was.ā Yeah. The arrogance, right? Because an almighty, holy God canāt possibly understand how sinful a sinner that He had to DIE to save from those sinsā¦ is. The arrogance? Thatās an understatement. But all those years before that horrible morningā¦ gone. Maybe I stole something. I donāt know. It was forgiven, wiped clean, and then wiped from my memory. I canāt rehash it with the Lord over and over. I canāt drag it back up like a wife who wonāt let her husband forget the one time he forgot her birthday. I canāt use it as a whip to beat myself up with. And I think thereās something beautiful in that. Do I wish I could stop hurting my family with my blank past? Of course. But am I also grateful for a living picture of the fresh start the Lord gives His people at salvation? Definitely. I hope I never take it for granted again.Giveaway
To celebrate her tour, Chautona is giving away a grand prize that includes:
1 $25 Amazon Gift Card
1 Paperback Copy of None So Blind
1 Paperback Copy of Will Not See
1 Lampwork Necklace
1 Cool denim mini-backpack (to hold your stuff!)
1 Custom Travel Mug (with quote from book)
1 FREE eBook code to share with a friend!
Click below to enter. Be sure to comment on this post before you enter to claim 9 extra entries! https://promosimple.com/ps/ba35
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