Memories and Stories…
Last
night I woke up with the lyrics from an old Mac Davis song running through my
mind. “Memories” was released in 1970 on his album, “Song Painter.”
Memories pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories sweetened through the ages just like wine[i]
Sometimes
it can be listening to an old story told by someone whose decades have far
outpaced mine, reminiscing about a moment in time way back when. Their eyes light
up, like they’ve just run into an old friend, and they try to pick up where
they left off when they were last together. I try to picture the scene, and imagine
I’m there with them. But it doesn’t take long afterwards that I start replaying
the familiar stories of my own family’s memories – of people I have never known
as they had gone on to glory before I was born.
And
before too long, I realize that I have just traveled down the memories of my
own life. Birthdays, anniversaries, children’s parties, graduations, weddings,…
they all seem to waft gently through my mind.
I
try to savor each moment as they appear, holding on just tight enough to try
and recall the sounds of voices, the colors of clothes worn, the smell of the
perfume or aftershave of loved ones that have long since departed.
Quiet thoughts come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with
Sweet memories
As
I reflect on these moments, and try to trace the pathways in my mind that led
me down these corridors of my past, it dawns on me once again just how treasured
these momentary blessings are to me. I cherish them deeply and gently put the
back in the folds of my memories, and pray that I never lose them.
It
may seem odd to reflect on things like this. (And perhaps that’s because I’ve
always known I was somewhat odd.) Still, I believe there is a reason for these
events that come about when I take the time to be quiet, to be still, and to
just listen. It brings me right back to those times in my life when I was
blessed beyond all knowing at the time that what I was hearing and experiencing
was the pouring of the sacred stories of how my family came to be. Not just the
tales of my mother and father as they courted one another before marriage. But
how our families came together, generation after generation. The incidents that
peppered the years that led this one to that one, this family to that family,
and how they all played a role, not just in creating my DNA, but in
establishing values, traditions, faith.
Sitting
at the feet of my grandparents and hearing them tell of things that happened during
the Great Depression, or during the War, or even stories of their parents and
grandparents. These are chapters in my own life the meaning of which I have yet
to fully realize. (One might say they are my prequels!) And there are some
stories that came from other relatives in the family tree that have come down
to me that have shaped me in my own life in ways I have not yet been able to express.
Just
recently, I was rummaging through our little safe in the closet where I keep
important papers, insurance documents, passports, car titles, and the like. I
came across a letter that my Dad’s oldest brother, Kenny, wrote to me while I
was on a spiritual retreat back in 1992. In it, Kenny shared with me that it
was always his grandfather’s (my great grandfather’s) wish to have a preacher
in the family. Kenny remarked that he came close, but was never ordained as a
pastor. He served most of his life as a volunteer at his church in Florida, but
never felt the call to ministry. He told me that I had finally fulfilled my
great grandfather’s wish. I never was able to meet him, as he died some years before
I was born. To think that I had a distant relative who prayed for a pastor in
his descendancy. And God called me.
I
then find myself wondering (as I wander through these “pages in my mind”) if my
own children and their generation will ever find this to be meaningful, too.
Truth be told, my kids have found some joy in trying to piece together how they
came to be, and I find joy in their endeavors.
The
idea isn’t new, by the way. It’s as old as Moses, and even before. The idea of
tracing one’s stories back through time is not just the work of genealogists,
but is a helpful way to understand who we are and how we got here. More importantly,
it enables us to ask the theological question: “Where is God in all this?” It
gets us to ponder not just our histories, but our sacred stories as well. These
are the ones that have shaped us and our moral compass. They’ve helped define
who we are, what our values and beliefs are all about, and why we do the things
we do. The German phrase for these sacred stories is heilige Geschichte. It
literally translates as “sacred stories” – the stories faith that have impacted
and shaped our lives and identities.
It
is why our Scriptures are replete with genealogical lists. It isn’t just to be
able to name all the people in the family tree. It is to remind us that each
person in that family tree has a story – a story of how God encountered them,
interacted with them, and how they responded, and sometimes did not respond to
God. Each sacred story serves as a reminder of how God has always been with us,
and just how precious and sacred our lives are because of God’s love.
It may sound
strange, but the older I get, the more I think about and treasure these precious
memories and stories. There have been family members in my lineage who were not
always as blessed to be able to remember them. Dementia, including Alzheimer’s
disease, has been active in our family’s lives just as it has for so many other
families across the generations. For me, there is a treasure in the memories,
and the thought of losing such that cannot be measured in dollars frightens me.
So I am grateful for each and every memory as it comes to mind, and for each
story that reminds me of who I am, and whose I am.
Sweet memories.
[i] “Memories” was written for Elvis Presley’s
comeback TV special, aired on December 3, 1968 on NBC. Davis himself would
record it as well on his own album “Song Painter” in February 1970.
Lyrics © DistroKid, BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave.
