Don’t forget to remember | Beverly Carroll

Don’t forget to remember

Goodnight, fellow wounded and broken ones. Are you okay?

I am not, but I will be. What heavy hearts have been ours this past week! So much grief. So much loss. So much pain.

I cried on the way to church today. I cried during church. I cried at lunch after church, and I cried on the way home from church—overwhelmed, afresh, by the enormity of all that has been our lot, since we lost our precious Jimmy.

Thanksgiving was harder this year, than last. Holidays, for the broken, 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐝𝐞, intensifying grief and despair, and highlighting the stark contrast between what 𝐰𝐚𝐬, and what 𝐢𝐬.

Tonight, as I turn in, and turn out the lights, I rest my head on the pillow of God’s mercy. But, I must tell you, I feel no relief, no release, and no response.

I trust that God is with me, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 I do not currently feel His presence or provision. Previous, powerful encounters and evidences of Him, compel me 𝐧𝐨𝐭 to turn away during the protracted, murky seasons when I can neither 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 Him, nor 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 Him.

It is a choice—a discipline—𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 in the dark who He has revealed Himself to be in the light.

Throughout Scripture, God entreated His people to remember. He instituted feasts for that purpose. He instructed them to build memorials for that purpose. He added prayers and songs to the daily rhythms of their lives for that purpose.

He wanted them to remember, because He could not forget. He wanted them to remember because He knew that feelings (or the lack of them) were notorious for nullifying the evidences of 𝐚𝐥𝐥 that He had been 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 and 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.

He watched as their dissatisfaction with the menu 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞 the miracle of its provision.

He watched as their impatience and inability to wait well resulted in a golden calf that 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 to His miraculous deliverance from the slavery that had kept them in bondage for centuries.

He watched as their thirst led to 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 and 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭, despite the fact that they had walked through 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 of water, on dry ground.

Over and over came the exhortation: Don’t forget. Make sure to remember. Don’t forget.

So, tonight, that is what I have resolved to do. I will not dismiss the evidence, simply because I cannot feel the presence of the One who displayed it.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫:
*The providential ways He protected us as the losses piled up, following Jimmy’s.
*The favor and blessing He continues to show Austin at his job.
*The miraculous way He provided for my chemo treatments after six months with none, due to problems with my insurance.
*The choreography of how my book came to be, at each and every step.
*The unbelievable way He ordered events, two years to the day that Jimmy was hospitalized, so that I could be given a photo I never knew existed, of my last moments at his grave.

Those are some of the no-other-possible-explanation, knock-my-socks-off evidences of who God has been 𝐭𝐨 and 𝐟𝐨𝐫 us.

But there are others, too—less splashy and spectacular, to be sure, but they testify just as powerfully:
*The palpable feeling of His quiet abiding.
*The strength beyond my strength.
*The peace that makes no sense.
*The inexplicable joy that bubbles up at times.
*The purpose that took root in a life I didn’t want.
*The ability to forgive, though no apology ever came.
*The needs met, both big and small.

My heart, tonight, is still heavy and broken. There has been no change or breakthrough, yet. But, instead of questioning what I know to be true, I will name the injuries, and then I will remember the God who has been with me through 𝐚𝐥𝐥 of them.

Peter, speaking of Jesus, said this, “Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see Him not, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory:”

I don’t see Him, but I love Him, and I 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 to believe, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 when I can’t feel Him.

And for tonight? That is enough. If you, too, find yourself struggling, please know this, you are in good company. Scripture is full of great men and women of the faith who each had their own dark nights of the soul. Sometimes it just helps to know we’re not the only ones.

Can I encourage you, beloved, to remember? Can I entreat you 𝐧𝐨𝐭 to forget? Name the heartaches, but then bask in the memories.

Sleep will eventually come, and as new mercies arrive with the dawn, maybe, just maybe, joy unspeakable and full of glory will be ours, once more.

“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”
~ 𝐏𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝟑𝟎:𝟓

Join Me on Social Media for Hope and Encouragement

© 2025 Beverly Carroll