Photo and Commentary ©2026 by Shelley Schurch
Sunday, March 8, 2026
I remember the feeling of desolation, and the fact that I was in a very large, unfamiliar space. I was almost three years old and my mother and two older sisters were with me, aware of my grief and sorrow.
My mother later filled in the gaps of this snippet of a memory. We were away from my father and our southeastern Alaskan home, traveling by steamship and then trains to visit my mother’s family in eastern Washington and my father’s family in Nevada. (I pause to marvel at my mother’s bravery to undertake this long trip with three children.)
She told me I was remembering being in a large train station, in Salt Lake City, I think, at the point where I discovered my favorite toy friend was missing. More than missing, gone for good. I’ve heard that our earliest memories are usually marked by trauma, and it’s true that the few memories I have of this long trip are ones I would describe as toddler-sized trauma.
This long ago memory resurfaced when we saw this stuffed elephant on our morning walk. It looked like he’d been carefully placed on this large rock, one of many that rim our neighborhood park, so that whoever lost him could find him.
He was still there the next day, and the day after. Rain was threatening, so I moved him a few feet away to shield him under a tree but keep him visible to any search party.
He’s not there anymore, and my fond hope is that he has been reunited with the child who possibly loved him as much as I loved my favorite toy.
The elephant’s pose made him look patient, as if he knew he’d been forgotten but was serenely waiting for his person to come retrieve him.
It reminded me of two things. First, the oft-repeated assertion that an elephant never forgets. Wanting to check the fact or fiction of this statement, I read anecdotes from several elephant sanctuaries and zoological societies, and research from scientists – all fascinating, and all confirming the strength and length of elephants’ memories, plus their excellent problem-solving skills, sophisticated communication systems, empathy, and compassion.
It seemed ironic that this little elephant, a symbol of never forgetting, had been forgotten.
And second, this reminded me of Jesus:
“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget, I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands . . .”
(Isaiah 49:15-16a NIV)
The Easter season is drawing near, a time when we are invited to think – and feel – deeply about the chosen death of Jesus, who chose to take the nails in his hands and feet, and die a death that would secure eternal life for all of us who choose to embrace Him and His sacrifice.
It may seem like a strange stretch to connect a forgotten stuffed elephant, waiting on a rock, with the Lamb of God, who is also our Mighty Rock of Ages, but I happily accept all reminders of how much Jesus loves us, and how much He longs for us to return that love.
As we step out into this new week, remember to live loved, because you are!