I wonder why perfection is so fleeting in this world? It seems like if something was perfect it would last longer. There are memories that for me are perfect, even if the unpacking and re packing of them happen often enough, that metaphorically the memories becomes polished and embellished with time.... Here are a few.
1. The first time I climbed a tree so tall that a gentle breeze at first terrified then thrilled me, I was about seven and after that I would run to the same tree and climb 50 feet off the ground when ever the wind blew and I was able to go.
2. Watching animals being born, kittens, puppies, ducks and chickens, I even midwifed a cow once when grandpa Jorgensen had hurt his shoulder, watching some creature take its first breath is an amazing (and slimy) experience.
3. The first time I saw my wife, glorious, confident, shining like a polished Safire. I had dated many women, I had enjoyed all my close relationships, but never a person of such quality and charisma had I met. I never felt so attracted to and enjoyment of a person.
4. The last time I saw my wife, I was exhausted and depressed, she was kind and patient, still glorious but now full on life and experience, yet unchanged by time, a little more reserved now, and softened by the love that defines her experience and relationships, her imperfections are still perfect for me.
5. The first deer I took at twelve, my father had taught me to shoot and track, to see the camouflaged, and to be sure of my actions. He was more surprised than I was that I listened and learned his teachings.
6. First testimony of the gospel, doubting so much, such an accomplished sinner. Knowing finally knowing of something real something that made religion make sense. The powerful honest change of heart, a small flame in green fire wood that gives opportunity for sure knowledge if you see the flame and not the nearly unburnable kindling that houses it. With time and faith, knowledge and honest repentant practice, the alchemy of a soul becoming something more than even the self may believe is a joyous journey.
This writing was inspired by two things my nieces blog on a year of gratitude and a prayer to my Heavenly Father to heal my soul from the trials of life. The thoughts to me were comforting and felt purely external, having the effect on me as a child being loved even In his turbulent imperfection. I see most things in life are just part of living, with precious moments of comfort and relief.