Life is lived in forward motion. Only memories can give us back our past, and they can cover the gamut of human emotions. Consider last Monday, a national holiday declared in 1868 to remember those who died in the Civil War and has expanded to honor all who have died in any conflict since then. Wreathes are laid on graves, patriotic speeches are made, and the poignant notes of taps drift across a silent crowd. For many, the memory of this day is recalling a very personal loss. For others, and I’m one, it is a series of various gatherings in varied places of friends and family to eat and share plans for the summer. Once again, school’s out!
We try to make notes or put letters in a folder, or start a diary-like journal to reconnect one time to another. I just read in a July, 2000 journal, that I sat on a porch in Colorado and watched balloons add color to a vast blue sky. One son with long arms is always ready to call everyone together for a selfie. No selfies and that happening may not have been. Fireplace books are pictures taken after we have met as a family for a meal and before everyone goes separate ways again. Even without prompts, we often gather and say that starter sentence: “Do you remember when..” Words tumble on top of one another as moments are relived, restoring something precious that had been buried. A favorite request of children is, “Tell me about when I…”
Remembering what brought us to this place creates a sense of a journey bathed in gratitude. Some disasters for us were survived and some days brought pleasure that still has the power to uplift our spirits. We are most sad when relationships reach a stage where shared memories no longer cement our time together. Time after time, God reminds us to remember by whatever means: twelve stones, an Ebenezer, a date on a calendar, or a picture on the refrigerator.
Remember the former things, those of long ago.
Isaiah 46:9
Let Me Tell Ya 