REFLECTIONS
CARDS
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in a room
with no distinguishing features save for one wall covered with small index
card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author and
subject. These files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly
endless in each direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the
files, the first to catch my attention was one that read, "People I Have
Liked." I opened it, began flipping through the cards and quickly shut it,
shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
Without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room, with its
small files, was a crude cataloging system of my life! Here were written the
actions of my every moment, big and small, in excruciatingly minute detail
that even my memory could not match.
A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me. As I
began randomly opening files, exploring the contents, some brought joy and
sweet memories, others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I
would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file labeled
"Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed." The titles
ranged from mundane to outright odd: "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I Have
Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed At." Some were almost hilarious in their
exactness, such as "Things I Have Yelled at My Siblings." Others brought
no laughter, such as "Things I Have Done In Anger." or "Things I Have
Muttered Under My Breath At My Parents." I never ceased to be amazed at
the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected and
sometimes fewer than I had hoped!
I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be
possible that in my few years of existence I filled each of these thousands,
even millions of cards? It seemed each card confirmed this truth. Each
was written in my own handwriting and each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened to," I realized the
files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly and I
was not close to finding the end of the file. I shut it, ashamed, not so much
by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew the file
represented.
When I came to the file marked, "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through
my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and
drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that
such a moment had been recorded! An almost animal rage broke within
me. One thought dominated my mind, "No one must ever see these cards!
No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy all of these!" In an
insane frenzy I yanked a file out. Its size did not matter. I had to empty it
and burn the cards. As I took it at one end and began pounding it on the
floor, I could not dislodge a single card! I became desperate and tried to
pull out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it out.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my
forehead
against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. Then I saw it. The title bore,
"People I have Shared The Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those
around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a tiny file, not more
than three inches long, fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained
on one hand!
Then the tears came, sobs so deep that the hurt started in the pit of my
stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I wept out of
shame and the overwhelming true realization of it all. The rows of file shelves
swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room! I must
lock it up and hide the key! Then as I brushed away the tears, I saw HIM. No,
please, not HIM! Not here! Anyone but JESUS! I watched helplessly as He
began to open the files and read the cards. I could not bear to watch His
response. I did bring myself to glance into His face and I saw a deeper sorrow
than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst files. Why did He have
to read every one?
Finally, He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me
with pity in His eyes, pity that bore no anger with me. I dropped my head,
covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and
put His arm around me. He could have said so many things...but He did not say
a word...HE CRIED WITH ME! Then He got up and walked to the wall of files.
Beginning at one end, He took out a file, and one by one, began to sign His
Name over mine on each and every card.
"No!” I shouted, rushing to Him. All I could say was, "No, No", as I pulled the
card from Him. His Name should not be on these cards, but there it
was...written in red, so rich, so dark, so alive. The NAME OF JESUS covered
my name, written in His blood. He gently took the card from me, smiled a joyful
smile and began to sign each card. I do not think I will ever understand how He
did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and
walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "IT IS
FINISHED!"
He lovingly and tenderly took me by His nail-pierced hand and led me out of the
room. There was no lock on the door. There were still cards to be written!
Praise God! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY SWEET JESUS!!!
Peggy B. McDowell 12/96