memories
The deck was filled with chatter and laughter as stories of years past were bantered in the collective memory. Five of the original fifteen first cousins (from my father’s side of the family), direct descendants of eight out of ten twentieth century siblings were gathered for the first communal meal in almost forty years. As the time together unfolded and we looked at those occupying the deck, recollections of parents long deceased began to emerge. The resemblance of children to parents and or uncles and aunts became evident in ways not noticed in our younger years. As revelations of children, grandchildren, and even great grandchildren emerged we all shared the awe that was making its collective strike upon the group. The children that once had played with one another in carefree abandon were now grandparents filling in the blanks of those years since. Hearts were filled with gratitude that Saturday in April as all were able to reconnect and recollect the joys of lives today and fond memories of times gone by. Enthusiastically we all agreed to meet again soon with extended families of all the cousins. Thankfulness is the fuel that ignites the flame of memory bringing healing joy in today.
As the dawn appears the mist rises from the surface of the pond. The mist is like the memory of what was. The pond water retained its heat much better than the chilled air that blew in overnight. Hanging onto its remnant of warmth in air that yesterday was warmer the water is forced to give up its past in light of the present. All is not lost as new and greater warmth will soon arrive to bring revival to the chilling water. The mist of memories often clouds the discoveries in a new day. Sometimes opportunities to enjoy the offerings of the present are obscured by the prism of the past. A frank acknowledgement of those lingering memories along with an offering of gratitude for having experienced them sparks a bounty of thankfulness for what is yet to be discovered. Clearing the shadow of yesterday broadens the lens through which today may be experienced!
Crackles and a roar from the old cast iron stove give evidence that the living space in the old farm house will soon be warmer. With animals and humans fed, it’s time for thoughtful and thankful reflection upon God’s gifts. The wonder of renewed connections since this year began has been amazing. Not only has there been reconnection with dear college friends, but also with a cherished cousin from whom contact had been lost for years. Another delight arrived just a few nights ago when we discovered that our former Pastor from our church in Connecticut is living less thirty miles away. A quick email to the contact information we found prompted a rapid and welcoming response from the man who baptized our daughter. Memories flooded my mind as we emailed back and forth with only highlights of the years since Milford. Our task will now be to establish a time when we can reconnect face to face with this inspiring man and his equally engaging wife. Reflecting now on the wonder of friends, family, and acquaintances, I give thanks to the creator of relationships whose demonstration of grace and mercy has and will continue to be the model upon which we stand. Not only have we established delightful new acquaintances over the past year here, but we have also uncovered older connections that add to our delight. A heap of gratitude now fills this overflowing heart!
As we walked through the familiar door a volunteer greeted us. Two homeless men were waiting patiently outside the tiny food pantry while the Pastor searched the shelves for some staples to sustain the men for a few days. The sanctuary was clean and inviting as I remembered it and some chairs were arranged for the evening’s prayer circle that would bring together a faithful few who find joy in the act of communal prayer. A quick visit in what use to be my old office was packed with planning for the upcoming Sunday service. Warm and wonderful memories flooded my thoughts and touched my heart with pangs of joy to be once again in the space where God had provided so many moments of ministry. There are days when I am visited by the return of a symptom free moment and I fail to understand its significance. Though I long for a life symptomless I know that change has brought with it new opportunities to engage thankfulness. Like the visit to the Church sanctuary of my past, the visit of symptom free moments are short lived. The richness of memories serves to fuel the engine of gratitude that speeds the train of opportunities along the tracks of life.
The storm has passed and the winds are calm. Fields and forest alike are covered in the blanket of snow deposited last evening. The iced over pond is host to waves of frosty white as the morning sun gently peeks its head over the horizon. Peace and calm prevail as road traffic has diminished to just the occasional hearty soul venturing out this bone chilled day. A swing from sixty sunny degrees to a frigid eighteen degrees hosting a beautiful carpet of snow is oddly an exciting and welcomed change for this soldier of the fort who does not need to venture out. Armed with wood for the stove, trusty animal companions and a self imposed list of chores, this cottage dweller gives thanks for another opportunity to experience the goodness of God this day. A glance around the room fills these eyes with pictures and objects that bring back memories for which this soul is filled with gratitude. It is not the object that is cherished; it is the memory and joy of the experience symbolized. Gratitude is the spice that makes life’s feast burst with flavor!
The sun peeks gently through the leaf barren trees on its rise from the east. A layer of ice coating the pond offers up its etched reflection as light fills the sky. The storm has passed and the winds have calmed, but in its wake has been deposited the frigid arctic blast challenging the old furnace and stove. Like the etched reflection from the pond, I reminisce with the quiet of the morn and give thanks for blessed time with our grandchild. Back secure in the care of her mom and dad, her absent chatter and frequent hugs leave a void filled now with silence. Prayers of thankfulness for her visit and safe return are the layers upon which the icing of memories is spread. Now the task of return to routine exercise, writing, and reading is upon us. That return comes wrapped in a blanket of gratitude for love’s diversion for a precious few days. That beautiful diversion was, for its duration, a gratifying purpose!
The light of day glows dimly through the hovering clouds saturated with a cooling mist of rain. It hardly seems daylight though the clock tells otherwise. Everything seems to be still in the midst of the overcast soup. Experience speaks the language of recollection that cloudy days ultimately give way to sun lit skies that bathe the landscape in brightness. The memory of days illuminated gives food for the journey through today’s banquet. As one goes about the chores of this day, the presence of the hovering clouds and saturating cool mist is somehow lost in the midst of the work at hand. Diminished are the longings for what has been and the desire for what will be as the attention to what is becomes fully engaged. Whatever the challenge of the present, it is best met with the attention to “now” as memories and hopes are safely stored in the arsenal of perseverance. Discovering the richness of today gives substance to tomorrow’s reflections!
A warm breeze whisked by as the new bike and I navigated the path beside the river. An adventure that had begun as only a dream last year was being fulfilled. The unexpected warm fall weather had created a door of opportunity through which we could pass on this first of what we hope will be many biking excursions. Cruising past the sights of my childhood along the river brought back fond memories of times past and prompted reminders of the blessings of things present. As winter edges its way back into our presence I look forward to days ahead that provide other doors of opportunity for discovering more of the river trail. Every new day ushers in opportunities to discover the possibilities that may be uncovered in the moments provided. Today, gratitude is the cloak that wraps the gifts that are yet to be discovered.
Gently crackling in the heat of the olive oil the freshly chopped onions and celery took on their respective translucent and pale green color. The diced leftovers from the previous week along with beef and chicken stock renderings were waiting to be added. A few special spices and additives had taken their place early in the preparation. Now the “Baffi soup” would soon be ready for consumption. With the smell and taste came fond memories, both distant and near. Distant were the days as the kids were growing up when we enjoyed our almost weekly weekend soup medley during a warm family dinner. Near were the memories of the past week when each meal was lovingly constructed as an artist applying his color to the once blank canvass. Absent in all those memories were the moments of challenge with stiffness or tremor. This mirror of the week and years gone by reflects more delight than dismay. Though challenged more than once, the victory over them is the blanket of memories of which they are only a minor part. I am grateful for the opportunity to construct the “Baffi soup” of life and savor its new flavor from things past.
The audience burst forth in thunderous applause as the first act of the classic opera La Boheme drew to an end. That night in 1980 at The Metropolitan Opera was mesmerizing. We had just a few months before sung in the chorus of the Amato Opera in the Bowery. Although our performances in the tiny theater on the Lower East Side of Manhattan had been greeted with applause, they did not compare to what we had just heard. We ascended the stairs to the second level and toasted our glasses of white wine in honor of the joyous evening. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her. I turned in near disbelief. There before us was Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and her daughter Caroline. Mrs. Kennedy-Onassis was stunningly beautiful; far beyond what any photograph could capture. Her beauty was not just in her physical looks, but in the radiance of her very presence. I was suddenly flooded with the childhood memories of that horrible day in Dallas, Texas, in 1963 when her husband and our President was so violently taken from us by the assassin’s trigger. Though present at Lincoln Center, I was mentally cast into the throws of another world, another time, another place. Suddenly aware of my distracted stare, we departed to take our seats for the next segment of the performance. The memory of that night had long been stored away until aroused by a social media posting of the day President Kennedy was shot. Memories are like little pods of blessings strewn along the pathway. One cannot live in the pod, but an occasional sampling gives pause for reflection and added meaning in today.