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
Always had memories.
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
and produce fruit
Memories used to be just memories to me,
Back then, usually brought out of storage for a reason.
Usually a practical one.
Memories turned into collections of
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.
Was I in bed?
Were we in the living room?
I remember that house – my first house.
Outside of Pittsburgh.
Neighborhood sure has changed.
But that home, that life, those people
are all still alive.
School days sometimes return to me.
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!
Sometimes I hear songs that transport me back.
The faucets of memory open wide
flooding my mind and heart
with thoughts and feelings
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!
But we had hope!
I remember believing I’d see the sun rise
after dark days!
And it did!
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 be known!
The years slowly unfolded
unwrapping a life
boxed in layers of memories.
Nesting dolls of wonder
of unrecognized moments.
and a family I love!
Dinners at home
and school meetings
and family vacations
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.
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’m grateful! Again!
Just neural patterns?!
How do they account for the awe
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
to blossom into a bonfire of remembrances.
A fire that ignites
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
as fully as possible.
Remembering with that same hope!
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.
I teach how to allow them to let the grace seep
into every corner of their hearts,
Cast your spells of tomorrow!
“Remember with me!”, I tell them.
Let me share with you my memories,
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
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,
Remember the moments to come!
“Come with me. Let’s remember something.”