Recently, I viewed a picture of myself taken at age 11 or 12. Well, most of us have photos of ourselves at that age, however, I had never seen the particular photo before. I found it in a book published about my hometown. Never even knew that such a photo existed.
Wow! Seeing it brought back some really sweet memories. There I stand, frozen in time, in a glass window front above the main street in my home town. I'm the ninth little Girl Scout from the left, singing Christmas Carols. All of us are in our uniforms. It's a black and white photo (we're talking the nineteen fifties here, after all), but I can recall the green uniforms, green socks and yellow neck scarves.
I remember the names of almost all of my fellow scouts. The point is, I had forgotten all about doing the caroling on Broadway, all those years ago. It was a big deal then, but it had slipped from my memory.
Gracious Lord. In your wisdom, you have made us imperfect. Our memories are selective. We don't like remembering the unhappy pictures. But, sometimes all we can do is remember the sad and bad pictures. We forget about the good pictures. Thank you for helping us, against our natures, to recall the good pictures.
(I'll try to get this photo posted.)
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