Jennifer, wow. I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m praying for a speedy recovery. It’s been quite a season for you both. Lots of joys and hard things, and painful things that you’ve shared. But, your words are oil… they flow like lyrics in a song. I’ve never thought about memories being blended together by our Father. I have always separated them in categories, or compartmentalized them: joyful, good, painful, bad, unthinkable, etc. actually my name River was given to me by the LORD to go with His prophetic calling on my life from Psalms 46:4&5. The thing is I don’t want to use my real name because of the memories associated with it. I cannot even say my name without feeling ill. However, your writings have helped me here to “see” a picture: like a clay vessel being made on the wheel and the Potter adding indentations and a variety of colors to it: memories of all kinds grafted in.
This makes it easier to accept the memories I cannot look at on their own. But together, somehow, with all the rest… they make the vessel Beautiful and Priceless. Thank you. 🙏
RIVER, as always, I am deeply moved by your open-hearted offering of yourself—your kindness and wisdom. May He paint us brand-new, richly-hued memories to layer as the most beautiful collages upon our stories. And may our names from His mouth be what we respond to and follow without hesitation. Thank you so much for your sharing here. ❤️
Jennifer, this is stunning. The way you hold memory with both reverence and surrender — as something sacred rather than sorted — is healing in itself.
Your phrase, “Memory makes me timeless and ageless,” lingered with me. It reminded me that the past isn’t gone — it’s folded into us, shaping the texture of who we are now. Your orchard becomes altar. Wound and wonder side by side. And the invitation to ask God to be our Memory — that’s something I didn’t know I needed.
Reading this, I felt less afraid of what I carry. The broken parts, the beautiful ones, the ones I still can’t name. Thank you for helping me see that, with Him, even the memories I’ve tried to bury can become doors to deeper knowing. Deeper presence. Deeper peace.
Praying for your healing, and grateful for how your words help others begin to heal too.
Thank you for your amazing information and teaching… I live in South Africa Cape Town. Thank you for the opportunity to receive this amazing way of bringing the gospel in writing ✍️ my spirit witness with this and memories is something that I have been questioning recently… Blessings in Jesus Name. Alta
Jennifer, wow. I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m praying for a speedy recovery. It’s been quite a season for you both. Lots of joys and hard things, and painful things that you’ve shared. But, your words are oil… they flow like lyrics in a song. I’ve never thought about memories being blended together by our Father. I have always separated them in categories, or compartmentalized them: joyful, good, painful, bad, unthinkable, etc. actually my name River was given to me by the LORD to go with His prophetic calling on my life from Psalms 46:4&5. The thing is I don’t want to use my real name because of the memories associated with it. I cannot even say my name without feeling ill. However, your writings have helped me here to “see” a picture: like a clay vessel being made on the wheel and the Potter adding indentations and a variety of colors to it: memories of all kinds grafted in.
This makes it easier to accept the memories I cannot look at on their own. But together, somehow, with all the rest… they make the vessel Beautiful and Priceless. Thank you. 🙏
RIVER, as always, I am deeply moved by your open-hearted offering of yourself—your kindness and wisdom. May He paint us brand-new, richly-hued memories to layer as the most beautiful collages upon our stories. And may our names from His mouth be what we respond to and follow without hesitation. Thank you so much for your sharing here. ❤️
Jennifer, this is stunning. The way you hold memory with both reverence and surrender — as something sacred rather than sorted — is healing in itself.
Your phrase, “Memory makes me timeless and ageless,” lingered with me. It reminded me that the past isn’t gone — it’s folded into us, shaping the texture of who we are now. Your orchard becomes altar. Wound and wonder side by side. And the invitation to ask God to be our Memory — that’s something I didn’t know I needed.
Reading this, I felt less afraid of what I carry. The broken parts, the beautiful ones, the ones I still can’t name. Thank you for helping me see that, with Him, even the memories I’ve tried to bury can become doors to deeper knowing. Deeper presence. Deeper peace.
Praying for your healing, and grateful for how your words help others begin to heal too.
Thank you for your amazing information and teaching… I live in South Africa Cape Town. Thank you for the opportunity to receive this amazing way of bringing the gospel in writing ✍️ my spirit witness with this and memories is something that I have been questioning recently… Blessings in Jesus Name. Alta