Musical Musing: “Amnesia”, Sam Hart (BlinkTwice4y)

How many times in our life have we wanted to just forget? To erase the scenes, the words, the moments that echo over and over in our minds, an endless loop playing on repeat that steal our peace, our serenity, our joy, our sleep?

Maybe you don’t want them to go away forever: perhaps they were good memories, the last time you saw a loved one, or the summer you spent with them, carefree and happy. Maybe you want those memories, but they seem to haunt you now, and you can’t move forward with your life because those memories are all you have left.

Or maybe they’re the words you regret. The things you said in anger, and didn’t mean. Or the ones you did mean, but not the way they came out. Or the things you did, but can never undo. The things unsaid that can’t be said. Maybe the memories that you want to erase are regrets that haunt you, guilts that hound your every step, robbing you of peace.

Whatever the reason, we’ve all known what it’s like to have something we can’t let go of. We’ve all been there. We’ve had the hurt that seems to take over our entire existence, that will never heal. When we’re told that “time heals all wounds,” we scoff… time can’t heal this one, we think. And so we long, like this song, for some peace, for a place of rest. For even a temporary amnesia that will let us forget the ever present pain and let us find a way forward.

Oh, Beloved, I’ve been there. It’s surprising what will take you there, and at the times you least expect it. A glimpse of something takes you down a road you’ve managed to avoid for a long time, and you find yourself standing before the scar in your life, at a memory of pain you’d rather forget, but you can’t.

This past December and January, Oklahoma was hit with some of the heaviest snow it had ever had on record. They brought out pretty heavy equipment to dig the roads out, stuff they save for digging on construction sites… or for digging graves. And so, one day, as we got off the highway and I saw a backhoe parked in the snow, I was taken back to the days surrounding the death of my father. I still had almost 2 months before the anniversary came; I wan’t expecting the pain of missing him yet. But there it was. You see, my dad had died in February, in the cold northeastern mountains of Pennsylvania, and with the snow on the ground, it was the first year in a long time that they could not safely dig into the ground to prepare the hole to lay him into. My father lay in a vault until spring and the thaw, when they could dig, and then they laid him to his final rest. So those backhoes in the snow took me all the way back to that cemetary, where they couldn’t dig, because of the snow.

Oh, what a scar it is in my heart to come back to the memory of my father’s death. To know that he’s gone, and he never met my husband, he never met my sister’s children, he’ll never meet mine. It might be nice to have amnesia wipe that scar from my mind, to give me peace when I see the strange things that trigger the pain again.

And I know, Beloved… your heartbreak may not be so jarring as the death of a parent. That doesn’t matter… pain is pain. If it’s enough to disturb your peace, it’s valid and real and pain. I don’t tell you my story to diminish yours, just to illustrate. I tell you mine because it’s near at hand to tell, but it doesn’t make your story any less.

So, what do we do when we come to these moments when our pain steals our peace? What do we do when we long for amnesia, but cannot have it? I’ve learned a few things I do, and I hope they help.

I’ve learned to turn my attention away from the hurt, away from my pain, and focus it elsewhere. Sometimes, that’s as simple as remembering the joy I had with my dad… laughing at the silly jokes he told:

(Read aloud, and pronounce the capital letters separately.)

AB, CD EDBD ducks?

M R not ducks.

S A R. CD EDBD wangs?

L I B. M R ducks!

Sometimes, it’s listening to music that acknowledges my hurt, but also recognizes that there is a healer: there are Christian artists with songs that don’t pretend for one minute that life is all sunshine and roses, and sometimes, the bumps along the way raise questions we don’t know how to answer. Some of my favorite songs for this are listed:

Natalie Grant: Held

Nichole Nordeman: River God

Steven Curtis Chapman: God is God

Sometimes, it’s just plain trying to sing songs that have nothing to do with me, singing praise songs to God. Anything you can remember. Just the act of trying to think up the song and remember the lyrics and the tune will force your mind onto something else.

Are you running from your problem? I don’t think you have to be. If this is a scar that can’t be dealt with, then there’s no point in worrying over it. And if it can be, you may not get anywhere if you’re picking at it when you’re already in pain. You might need to come back to it when you can think clearly.

I do know this: we can have peace and joy even when we carry scars. We can put our pain behind us and walk forward in a new life. We may not find amnesia, but I do believe we can find a way back to rest.

John 14:27- “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

Zephaniah 3:17- “The LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing.”

John 15:11- “I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.”

Psalm 30:5b,11- “weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning…You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy…”

Psalm 94:19- “When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.”

If you’re longing for amnesia as a means to find peace… maybe all you need is the peace. I carry the scars. And while they still surprise me, I wouldn’t give up my memories of my father. I wouldn’t give up the scars that I carry, because they’ve given me the strength to be who I am. They shaped my character into who I am. I don’t want to forget what I’ve learned; I just want the peace that comes despite the pain. And fortunately, I can have both. So can you.