Scrolling Through My Life

It’s a gray, foggy day, and boredom sends me scrolling through my phone. What I didn’t expect was to scroll through my life.

More than 37,000 photos live there, tiny frozen moments of joy, pain, laughter, tears, and ordinary days I barely remember living. As I swipe, I see evidence of God’s faithfulness everywhere. Surgeries I survived. Illnesses I endured. Grandchildren taking their first breath. Holidays crowded with people I love. Smiles that came after tears. Strength that showed up when mine was gone.

Most of those moments are recorded. But many are not. Quiet prayers whispered in the dark. Fears I never spoke aloud. Battles fought only in my heart. Victories no one applauded.

That’s when my thoughts turn to God.

Scripture tells us that He keeps records too, not because He might forget, but because nothing about our lives is insignificant to Him.

“All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139:16)

I wonder what heaven will be like. Will there be a moment when my life flashes before me, good, bad, and ugly, played back at a speed only eternity allows? Will God sit patiently beside me, not in accusation, but in compassion? Will I finally see how His hand was at work in moments I thought were wasted or broken?

The Bible says that one day “the books were opened” (Revelation 20:12). That can sound frightening, until we remember that for those who belong to Christ, judgment has already been settled at the cross. Any replay I might see won’t be to shame me, but to show me the depth of His mercy. Every failure covered. Every tear counted. Every act of faith, no matter how small, remembered.

Right now, we see only fragments like snapshots instead of the whole story.

“For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.” (1 Corinthians 13:12)

One day, the scrolling will stop. Time will give way to eternity. And we won’t be looking at a screen anymore, we’ll be looking at Him.

That’s why, even as I look back with gratitude, I also look forward with hope. Scripture calls us to live while “we wait for the blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ” (Titus 2:13). Jesus promised He would come again, not just to review our lives, but to redeem them fully, to make all things new.

There are still many moments left unrecorded. More love to give. More grace to receive. More days written in His book. And when He comes again, the story won’t end, it will finally make sense.

Until then, I’ll keep scrolling with gratitude, living with purpose, and watching the horizon with hope.

Father God,

Thank You for being faithful in every season of my life, for the moments I remember clearly and the ones I’ve forgotten. Thank You that my days are written in Your book, that nothing I’ve lived through has been wasted in Your hands. Help me trust You with my past, walk with You in my present, and look forward with hope to the return of Your Son. As I wait for Jesus to come again, teach me to live faithfully, love deeply, and rest confidently in Your grace.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Don't forget where you've been

My mother always told me to look where I was going. More than likely she started speaking those words to me when I was very young but I don't really remember when I first started to hear her chide me. 

What I do know is that as a daydreamer/multi-tasker, my focus has never on what was immediately in front of me. My head was always swiveling, trying to see not only where I was going but where I'd been. That was not necessarily a good thing and often, I ended up with scrapes and bruises from my inattention. But, looking back isn't always a bad thing. In fact, it can be a very good thing. 

Sometimes it's necessary to take a look back in order to see how far you've come. 

Today, as I was working to free up some space on my Google drive, I came across a multitude of photos from my cancer journey. That journey began in June of 2014. As I started to look through the photos, I became overwhelmed. Although it's been almost 5 years since my diagnosis, it seems like it was only yesterday. 

One of the photos that particularly impacted me was a picture of my naked torso. In that photo, I'd already had my breasts removed and had almost completely healed from that surgery. The photo was taken at the radiation clinic and the staff had just completed their "mark up" for my scheduled treatments. The dots and lines they'd applied with a Sharpie marker wouldn't stay on permanently but they'd stay on through the first couple of treatments. 

I remember well the day they began to mark up my body. They'd made a fiberglass mold of my upper body for the linear accelerator to insure accurate positioning every time I came in for treatment but then, they'd also explained, the need for markings to help line up the beams of radiation. Without them, some of my vital organs could be damaged. 

Radiation was difficult although I didn't feel a thing while going through the treatments. There were no sharp pains, no ill side effects other than some extreme fatigue and the burns I acquired about halfway through treatment. But later on, down the road, the doctor discovered I'd received some damage to the lower lobe of my right lung. They'd done everything they could to avoid damaging my organs but they could only control the radiation to a certain degree. I'd been warned in advance that the possibility of some residual damage was possible. 

As I looked at the photos of the radiation therapy, I could feel those feelings all over again. The feelings of embarrassment at having to bare my chest to even more people than I'd already done and of the feelings that cancer would never end. I was very down in the dumps during that time and feeling pretty hopeless. It wasn't good. 

But then I flipped through more photos and came across the ones from my first few cancerversaries. We'd had cake and family had come to help me celebrate those important milestones. Those were extremely happy memories and as I remembered those days, I was thankful. 

There were also photos of special trips we'd made to the beach and photos of my new boobs. I'd tried to document every aspect of my journey so my children would be able to look back one day and see how far I'd come. Some of the photos were extremely serious and some were overwhelmingly hilarious. 

Taking a walk down memory lane through Cancerland today was interesting. I'd forgotten about some of those moments but the photos helped remind me. As I looked back, I didn't lose sight of where I am now and I didn't find myself bumping into something that was going to cause me physical pain either. 

It's good to remember where you've been and how much you've overcome. Fighting cancer isn't easy, in fact, there are many, many lessons we learn along the way but some of them aren't realized until we glance back and face reality. 

Breast cancer hasn't been a total negative experience for me. I've learned many things along the way and some of those things I would have never learned were it not for this major health challenge. 

Along with being an "accident waiting to happen" as my mother always called me, I'm also a Pollyanna. My rose colored glasses help me find the good in both the past and in looking toward the future. 

I won't forget where I've been and I certainly won't forget where I'm going. Although I don't have an exact destination here on Earth, I know I'm moving forward one day at a time and that's good enough for me.