I awoke this morning with these words from the Sarah
McLachlan song by that title. Coming from basically a musical family of sorts,
it is not something new. Quite often down through the years, or at least the
past 47 years of married life, my wife and I will often comment that there has
been a song on our minds and in our hearts, only to find out it is the very
same song. Strangely, I have never found that to be in the least bit odd. We
had been a musical couple for many years until our voices began to give out.
Medical problems can creep in and change how we live life and musical ability and our
voices can be part of the loss. No matter the trauma it may cause there still
remains that love for harmony, a deep appreciation for both lyrics and melody
and the peace gained from allowing ourselves to be immersed in its beauty. I
digressed… or did I?
Most will know if you have reached those golden years when you begin to rehearse life, that memories can lead us down a fascinating path
some days. In retirement, I have had more time to begin to fathom out those
things which were real and others which were perhaps no more than wishful
thinking. Psychologists have identified 7 different types of memory which help
us to both reflect on our pasts, and recollect moments which have shaped our
lives. They range from childhood influences to motor skills allowing us to
walk, talk and process ideas, based on experiences found in life. These days
many are more concerned about the two basic and best known of our memory labels
outside of those 7 psychological identities. They are our long and short-term
memories.
I began to worry about my memory some years ago. There
were and are days where I have trouble carrying on a decent conversation
without struggling for what seems like the simplest of words. I have always
struggled with names. I can remember being warned not to identify someone as I
was being approached perhaps while shopping in a mall out of town. I might
blurt out a name and have it totally wrong embarrassing both the person and
myself in the calamity of the situation. Yet, I also find that like so many
others who reflect on the passing of years; I begin to meander down through the
history of my life while reflecting on my journey and where it has led me. I
mentioned the importance of two factors in localized memory reality and wishful
thinking. The later, being wishful thinking can be broken down into two segments,
the first being what we wished had happened and the other what we perceived has
happened. Thus we have to be careful how are memories are interpreted, it that
is where we begin to go with all that. I digressed… Yup! I did!
I am not a person to visit graveyards. There is a
stipulation on that comment I must admit. I have a fascination with family history
and in some contexts, I wish to visit either personally or virtually (“Find a
Grave.com”) and revisit the lives of family members, in a genealogical context.
I have often told those searching for family history that after 3-4
generations, much of the history becomes clouded by miss-information due to
poor records or error in transcription. But, I do visit is the point, on
occasion. A big moment in the life of our family at times has been on November
11th. We have been taking our family wreaths to the local graveyard
and placing them in memory of those who have served or have been lost in the
conflicts to protect our freedom.
I have taken time to reflect of late (and perhaps over
the last decade) on how we remember those whose lives have touched us; the
members of immediate family, close friends and acquaintances that became important
factors in the shaping of our lives. Have you had occasion in life to be
touched by someone who has had little in association with your path in life, previous
to a single contact, yet something clicked like a switch turning you onto a new
route, down a new search? Yes, many will not admit or perhaps realize it has
happened, but it does. I think about those things and wonder if life had been
so much different had I lived differently, paid closer attention to the factors
that shaped me and less attention to what could be. I admit freely at this juncture
that there were times when I wanted more, sometimes searched for more, but
mostly found contentment in being invisible. I have admitted in the past that
there is much reality in the introvert being tugged into positions where
extroversion becomes a necessary element of the job. Being truly shy by nature,
I had to learn to step up and do the job and this can lead to places where our
comfort level is taxed and it exacts a cost that most times cannot be
recovered.
What do we choose to remember, can be a constant
irritation while on the other hand comfort to others. My memories are mine
until I choose to rehearse them in one manner or another. The odd part of the
exercise in writing this blog through the years has been my personal evaluation
of its importance to both family and others. I have hesitated for months of
late to even begin to put thoughts to print wondering about the relevance in terms
of readership and historical value to the family. The truth is I have come down to
this decision; I write for the same reason my Mom did, that being personal
satisfaction in presenting my thoughts as an outlet of critical analysis of
events, moments and personal insights.
For many who read my blog, I am just another writer who
has or thinks he has something worth sharing and they read to satisfy curiosity.
To others, I may be a moment of inspiration when my meagre attempt at life’s
journey sparks a reflective moment for them. It matters not really, for it is my
journey, my exercise, my attempt at settling my own mind on where my heart is
going at the time of inspiration. But, I remember…
I was told once that my thoughts were being recorded. I
cried, not from anxiety, but from two emotions that were stirred at that
moment. A literal stranger at the time cared enough to have a file of mere
thoughts and words projecting who I am, while immediate family, for the most
part, would rather not take to time to read the ramblings recorded in a life
journal. Sarah McLachlan penned the words which rang in my mind this morning,
for reasons that only she will know. But, the words of that song elicit meaning
which is as varied as they are many and their interpretation can be as personal
as the individual reading or hearing them. I want to remember. I want to
remember with joy in my heart, but somehow may days it is laced with sadness,
for the thing which I cannot change. I want to remember the truth, not memories
laced with circumstance and stress, which often change both a perception of
events and sally the honesty of the moments being remembered. I want to be
both kind and honest in how I remember; life does not always deal us, as the
saying goes, “the hand we want” but gives us the “hand we are dealt”!
I remember the significance of moments, there I wade
through the timelines of events and I see the faces of those who have had both
positive and negative effects on my life. Some I must love; others I just love
and most others are found under the umbrella of a cast of characters
encountered along life’s journey. It is not my call to erase someone from memory;
it is God’s command that I love as I have been loved... Love without dissimulation
and that is difficult. Sometimes it is best to love from a distance and that is
both unsettling and a hardship that I have decided to bear. Life’s elements of
relational interaction do not always come with a guarantee and space is best in
those cases. Do I want life in those circumstances to be different…?
Absolutely! But I need peace and the only avenue for true peace is that which
we gain from Christ the maker and giver of all peace.
Most who read will not know me… that is a given,
considering the readership. Those who do know me or just read my blog, here’s
the take on today’s thought… You are important, you are of value, and you do make
a difference… You are loved! How far we take those elements of our personhood
depends on our interaction with life and those around us, including those we
meet in whatever venue we are afforded day today. Yesterday, I was reminded of
a person I knew in my teen years. He became a friend year’s later on social media.
We have not maintained a close friendship, yet we are identified as friends. We
are Brothers in Christ and as he is hurting; my heart hurts with him. My joy is
to pray for him, his family and those will care for him during this dark moment
in his journey. You see, memory can be an odd portion of our lives… I am
reminded that his lot is the lot of many, and many prayed for our own son in his
darkest hours.
I will remember you… will you remember me? It is not just
a few words from a lyric with both hidden and practical meaning; it may be a
wake-up call for each of us to take time to be aware of what is happening in
the “now”! Life can be hectic and we close both our minds and our hearts to
what is all around us. Take time to smell the roses, enjoy both sunrise and
sunset, be aware of both the joys and woes of others for one day “you” may need
the awareness of others and most of all remember this… you are loved! I would
never be an advocate, proclaiming the importance of wallowing in other’s
sorrow, but just be reminded that the pain of others needs our attention, most
importantly in prayer. Take time to pray, and in thanksgiving give praise where
it is due… It is found in God’s love for you and others.
Life is a journey to the edge. Today, my journey has been
quite unexpected, yet it affords me an opportunity once again to reflect on where
my memories lead, how it affects me daily and why it is important to manage
interpretation in light of experiences and circumstances in life. I am not
always comfortable with the edge, even though it may seem so at times. God takes
me there to remind me as He did Paul… If I am in control, He can’t be and that
is a downfall we all entrap ourselves in, in life. So as always the fear of
being near the edge is normal, but it is a matter of how we define the view
from there. Be blessed and I will remember… will YOU?
