Every summer when my children were young, we went to the Webster Fireman's Parade. We arrived early for a front row seat and spread our blanket on the curb. Eating sandwiches we packed or food from a local vendor was part of our tradition. My children loved the screaming firetrucks, especially when the fireman threw candy into their eager hands. I personally loved the majorettes who wore their colorful costumes and danced their way through the streets while twirling their batons with uncanny precision. Even for a grown woman like myself, the spectacle was captivating.
Recently my life went on parade, and I am the spectator on the curb watching each and every event whether good or bad march before me. Sometimes the mistakes scream like firetruck sirens through the montage of my memories. Other times the sweet candy of desire is thrown at me trying to entice me into what I choose to reject. The dancing majorettes are people who were party to my indiscretions. They are waving at me as if to say, "Do you remember?" The problem is I do. I remember with regret.
When the parade first begins I am intrigued, but isn't that how we are lured into the enticing trappings of sin. When I open my eyes and see the parade for what it truly is I am paralyzed, not by fear but by the recognition that I once marched in the parade. I was the majorette trying to grab the attention of a wayward soul. This past week I was promoting a new class in Creative Nonfiction. I went to six classes and shared a piece I published about an event from over 25 years ago. Every time I read, I became more and more uneasy in my spirit until the last day. On that day, the professor in the classroom said, "I like the angle you took because I can see you were not the victim but rather a strong woman who endured a terrible moment." I left the publication on my dining room table and my daughter read it. She sent me a text about how amazed she was that I could handle such a situation. They were both right. The grace of God gave me strength to make it through one of most difficult experiences I ever had to endure.
The parade isn't just a sinful past. It is memories of harder times, times when I was fighting against cancer. This past week a woman died who I met last year at the Wendi Logan Breast Clinic. She had ovarian cancer and opted to have her breasts removed as well. She was so healthy when I saw her last. When I went to the clinic last week, I was going to inquire about her but I forgot. I saw her death notice on Sunday and was floored. She was so vibrant and beautiful and now she was gone like a vapor in the wind. Of course, my survivor's guilt kicked in again. Why did I live? What did I have to offer? These are questions that always come to mind when I lose someone to cancer. They are questions I may never have an answer to in this lifetime.
This morning I realized that when the parades start in my life or I start questioning my mortality, I tend to bring out the big guns in an attempt to fight the battle on my own. I don't need to. What I need to do is rest in the arms of God. I need to let God fight my battles for me. I need to stop trying to arm myself with worldly defenses and let God be my defense. I can't win the battle on my own. I am clueless about warfare. When I have a tremendous General willing to defend me against the enemy, one who did it at the cost of his very own life, I should let him take his rightful place. I can let MY defenses down because "when the enemy comes in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord will lift up a standard against him and put him to flight" (Isaiah 59:19). I can fly higher without the big guns. In fact, I can soar.
Now on a good note. My parade often reminds me of the good things in my life. I have a husband who has loved me unconditionally for over 30 years. He has been my rock. I have children who are now grown and having babies of their own. In one year, I have been blessed with three more grandchildren, two were born within the past three months. I watched Harrison come into the world on October 6, and it is a memory I will cherish forever. I have created a beautiful family,and I will never do anything to dismantle this precious gift given to me. When I see this parade, I stand with pride. For all I have lost is but a pittance in comparison to all I have gained. So let the sirens blow for this spectacle because it is worth celebrating. I am truly blessed.
