This idea makes me htink of the movie Forrest Gump
– How Forrest ended up telling his life story to people waiting there with him; one story, one person at a time.
And his life story certainly did have a depth there, a sacredness bigger than words
And this makes me think of Life – and our role
in it
I found this writing... I call it a writing only because I'm not sure if it's a poem or if it's prose. Usually you can tell a poem by its style... there's a certain flow, rhythm to poetry. Whereas prose tends to be a little more narrative, following all the gramatical rules. But this writing, I found some time ago, and I cant identify what it is.
I don't know the source of this writing, or how I got it, or who it's about. There’s not title or name. My suspicions it’s from a female, for sure older person – retired grandparent
This has proven to be not only intersting to me, but also formative. This may have been what started me thinking about idea of “Sacred Memory”, of the sacredness of "remembering".
And while it's not directly related to Advent
per se, there is an element of waiting, and taking advantage of the waiting to listen, and prepare, and look ahead.
Hope you like it
The morning alarm pulls me away from
memories,
away from friends
family
past moments!
I remember!
Always had memories.
Everyone does.
But decades of slow learnings have taught me memories
are parts of our soul.
Can’t tell
anymore if the learning comes from God, or the memories themselves do.
Like
God-seeds planted in us,
if watered well,
they can grow to become blessings.
Maybe it’s our job to help them
grow
and
blossom
and produce fruit
beyond us.
Memories used to be just memories to me,
collections of
events
faces
names.
Back then, usually brought out of storage for a reason.
Usually a practical one.
Memories turned into collections of
“remember
when”
They evoked smiles,
embarrassment, or just shrugs.
And they
were put away again for future use.
Future use. Practical.
My first memory – my parents reading
me a book.
I think.
Was I in bed?
Were we in the living room?
I
remember that house – my first house.
Outside
of Pittsburgh.
Neighborhood sure has
changed.
New streets
New people
New names
But that home, that life, those people
are all still alive.
I remember.
School days sometimes return to
me.
Early ones
Films of Bert the Turtle teaching
“Duck and Cover”
Prayers to start the day
Everyone knew Mr. Wallace!
Summer Church camp!
I remember seeing so many stars there
– up
in that night-sky of my memory!
Believe
I heard God for the first time there!
High school football! Lights!
Bleachers full of people! Excitement!
Half-time bands – always a show!
Summer nights!
First crushes!
Sometimes I hear songs that transport
me back.
The faucets of memory open wide
flooding my mind and heart
with thoughts and feelings
still real.
Memories with substance,
like a well-used handbag
– chock full of things.
Elvis’s hips for
sure!
I was little,
but I do remember the day the
music died.
Almost five years to the day,
The Ed Sullivan
Show February 9th, 1964,
started with “All my Lovin’”.
“Sorry Girls”, they told us,
John Lennon was already
married.
I remember Big Brother and the
Holding Company.
Janis, a troubled and
misunderstood star
under a troubled and misunderstood sky…
but a star in the
sky none-the-less.
I remember the music inspired
us!
It inspired me!
Fearful days…
assassinations
riots
social change!
But we had hope!
I remember believing I’d see the sun rise
after dark days!
And it did!
Every day!
I remember!
I remember
when I couldn’t wait to jump
in!
A career waited for me!
I graduated college
and sailed a sleek
vessel
into my unknown waters!
I named
her “Discovery”.
I wanted to see
and
learn
and do
and be known!
The years slowly unfolded
unwrapping
a life
boxed in layers of memories.
Nesting dolls of wonder
of unrecognized moments.
A career
and a family I love!
Dinners at home
and school meetings
and
family vacations
and Thanksgivings
and Sunday church
and Sunday drives
and
Sunday dinners!
And wonderful
memories!
Weddings have come and gone; mine, my
friends, my own children’s.
Groomsmen Maids of honor
I see them on my
shelves.
Pictures.
Mostly I walk by them --
life’s business
cutting a path through my day,
right past these silent,
particular sentinels of
memory,
standing watch for me.
Sometimes I stop and read the
signposts,
historical markers along the road of my life.
Yes, I remember!
I remember.
I’m grateful! Again!
Just neural patterns?!
Really?!
Bio-electric circuitry?!
How do
they account for the awe
and grace
and life
I feel when I remember?!
Electrons can’t cast spells!
Memories enter through the gate of
the heart,
decorating the landscape of the soul
with signs of their presence
fires that simmer
and smolder,
always there,
always waiting
to blossom into a bonfire
of remembrances.
A fire that ignites
and consumes
and re-lights
A Phoenix
of Grace and God in each moment.
I’m still busy.
“Retirement” is a misnomer!
Life’s just as full – fuller maybe!
But I’ve learned to be still when prompted.
And remember the grace-filled moments of
life.
Even the ones I’m living.
A grandparent’s main job
is to teach “remembering”!
To help the rest
remember.
I’ve learned to wait
and
remember.
Remember
as fully as possible.
Marshalling smells
and thoughts
and
expectations
and wishes
and guidances
and discernments.
Remembering with that same hope!
Hope seasoned
with decades of learnings,
and
holding on,
and letting go.
To help my
descendants
make memories of the moments
– not to hold on to them
but be fully
in them, now.
Then,
I teach how to
allow them to let the grace seep
into every corner of their hearts,
every
neuron,
every cell,
every electron.
Cast your spells of tomorrow!
“Remember with me!”, I tell
them.
Let me share with you my
memories,
my graces,
my moments of God’s presence in each one!
And in each one of you.
God is a fullness…
a fullness of Memory!
Memories of yesterdays
and tomorrows
all
encapsulated in the right-now!
A FULL-ness of space!
Like those night
skies at camp.
Filled with sparkles of light.
Little grace-stars lighting our nights.
God is a grace - full - ness.
God is a moment.
God is each
moment.
“Remember with me”, I say.
Remember with me…
remember the graces,
the
light.
Remember the moments to come!
And Life.
Always life.
“Come with me. Let’s remember something.”
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