Memories and A Longing for Better Days

Recently I’ve been reviewing old photos, many of my church relationships, with diocesan, national, and global partners. We are smiling, enjoying our time together in worship, in work, and in fun and fellowship. The election of the new bishop last weekend brought into focus so many of these old friendships I’ve made over these 25 years in the Diocese of Alabama where we shared memories of our time together.

Those moments of fun and fellowship seem so distant now. I yearn for those seemingly happier, better days. My heart now is perpetually heavy with grief upon grief:

• Grief at the death and illnesses of loved ones in our parish

• Grief at the death and illnesses of loved ones in personal relationships

• Grief at the loss of relationships when disagreements become too intense, with the sadness of alienation and estrangement

• Grief at the loss of civility and kindness in our nation and in the world

• Grief at the profound suffering in the world from wars and extreme poverty

The Psalmist captures this feeling so clearly:

Many are saying, “Oh, that we might see better times!” Lift up the light of your countenance upon us, O Lord (Psalm 4:6)

Yes, our hope is in the name of the Lord. And our memories can strengthen and sustain us.

As we celebrate Eucharist, we are to remember Jesus – His death, His resurrection, and His coming again. There is hope and renewal in this remembrance - and a call to action. Nourished with his body and blood, we have new strength to love and serve in this broken world.

I love the Jewish expression at someone’s death: May his/her memory be a blessing.

From the brokenness, from the grief, from the disappointments and pain many of us endure in this unsettling time, maybe the answer is that simple. May our memories be our blessing. May our memories be a call to live into better times, with God’s help, to do our part to make this world a better place.

In this poem, Timothy Dale Jones explores the depth of our relationships where memories are a wellspring of life and give us the courage to carry on.

ROOTS

There’s nothing we’re supposed to do in the cold forest of grief. There’s no agenda, no requirement, no planned outcome, just slow-longing memories beneath blue winter branches.

Somewhere under us all these roots are the same, in the green hearth of summer and the hard frost of loss.

Somewhere they touch a hidden spring of reasons to keep on living, so we can be alive together, so we can remember together, so we can remember the warmth of love. (Down Where the Soul Is)

Epiphany Blessings, Judy Q +