Distant Memories

Have you ever noticed how easily places and times are forgotten? I watched a movie set in Africa tonight. The Africa that was portrayed was much different than the Africa that I know, but it occurred to me that I have forgotten many of the details of my time there. Some images are harder to forget, because I have pictures to remind me, but many events, smells, tastes, and sounds get pushed back into the recesses of the memory until they are rarely recalled. Little things bring back memories. The taste of groundnut soup with friends a few months ago helped me to remember treasured time around the dinner table with friends. The smell of certain illegal substances on the clothing of some of my patients reminds me of the thick mélange of scents that would waft into my bedroom window each morning, and of the voices of Baka men, women, and children sharing a bit of daybreak family time around the fire. The sound and feel of the wind and rain today (though miniscule when compared to Cameroonian rain), reminds me of rainy season and the thunderous sound of water hitting the thin tin roof. The sight of malnourished children on TV and sick kids in my ER prompts me to pray for the starving children in the Baka camp and wonder at how conditions can be improved for them.
That brings up an interesting point. Many of my memories are fond and pleasant, but some are just the opposite. I long to return to Cameroon, but it is not the warm memories that draw me, but the desire to see God glorified among the Baka. I remember the faces of so many Baka who have died, so many sick children, so many lives that are imprisoned by spiritual slavery. God doesn’t just remember them. He knows them each by name and has the hairs on their heads numbered. And He loves each of them so dearly. Lord, please continue to put a little of Your heart in mine and grow in me a love for all of the people that you love so much.