One of my prized possessions is a framed cover of sheet music that belonged to my grandmother.  The actual music was lost long ago.  I have never heard it. The art work is not remarkable.  It is the name of the piece that speaks to me.

“God Remembers When the World Forgets”.

I should back up and explain a little about my Grandmother, Mabel Bullock Harry.

As you might expect my mother adored her mother, Mabel. She loved her because of all the bonds formed in childhood, the tender moments that occur in simple acts.

Mother admired Mabel’s ease playing complex piano pieces. My mom, Julia, took years of piano lessons. She was comfortable playing familiar hymns for her Sunday school or children’s classes.  She measured herself against her mother's ability to play a song by using sheet music, but also after just hearing it.

Beyond piano Mabel had a lovely voice and included voice in college studies.

Frequently she was invited to sing at area churches. Recently I found a newspaper article that spoke about her performance at Georgia Normal School  before an audience of 300.

My mother framed this picture.  As I have reflected on Mabel’s life, this picture has taken on added significance. More of a touch point that recognizes that simple acts of service, the effort to develop talent or skill, may become faded memories. Heavenly Father remembers our striving. He does not forget. He remembers us because of His great capacity to love each man and woman.

Grandmother Harry became gravely ill when I was a toddler. She developed a high fever and her body was cooled with ice packs.  For weeks she was hospitalized in an Atlanta university hospital. Mabel was never the same.  For the remainder of her life she slept in a hospital bed or could only get around in a wheel chair.

During my fathers deployments to Okinawa and Korea, my mom returned to Warm Springs to assist Grandmama as much as possible. I have very faint memories of this time. Just little staccato moments without detail or context.  She rarely had visitors.  I recall her friend "Auntie Huntington", a college friend, who made a special trip to visit her. 

Her childhood friends and extended family probably visited her often early in her illness. It is easier when there is hope of recovery or improvement. When Mother was able to help, friends didn't feel the need to visit. It was difficult to communicate with Grandmama. She could not engage in lively conversation. Lives are busy with competing responsibilities. 

During one conversation with mother years later,  I realized she was remembering her disappointment & feelings her mother had been abandoned by friends.  It must have been hard for both my grandparents and family.  We all wrestle with dual emotions for the same set of facts.  We understand, but it is not simple.

Last Sunday as the Sacrament was passed, there were only a few people at the ends of the row where I was seated beside a friend. Rather than walking down the row to share the cups, they were returned to the brother passing them. The brother passing on my aisle didn’t realize we had not been served.

It only took a quick moment to remedy it.  A feeling of gratitude filled my soul. Gratitude knowing I am remembered by my Heavenly Father - always remembered.  Not for great deeds, but because He cares about me... He knows who I am separate from each of the billions of others. His sacrifice extends to me. There are moments in life when we feel inadequate, misunderstood, left out or a multitude of emotions.  What a great gift to know  I am remembered.

I am grateful my grandmother and my mother also knew our Heavenly Father loved them through all the hard times and all the good times. He remembers us always.