Remembering

I often tell people that I've got a good memory--problem is it's very short. But today is a good day for remembering. We remember those who have passed through life ahead of us, and we remember those who have served and sacrificed for us, but primarily we remember those who have fallen through their service. We are sobered through the fact that many have given the ultimate sacrifice for ideals and obligations--but for us. We stand and live and work and breath and act freely in large part to others' falling.

We did some remembering last evening--Suzi, Cheri, myself, and those around us at Solomon's Porch. Forced to stay in the true 'God's Country' one more day by a successful soccer team, Aunt Cheri had some time to kill--make that invest--Sunday night.

Partly as a result of Cheri's interest in a church that our family tries to visit on a semi-regular basis, the three of us headed south to the 'big city' to take part in their Sunday night gathering.

It was Pentecost Sunday yesterday, which we knew having attended a Lutheran church in the morning. They keep track of things like that. But I suppose we were a little surprised to hear the goatee-sporting pastor who attended a Baptist seminary wax eloquent about this under-appreciated Christian celebration 50 days after Easter. As is his style, the Rev. read large sections of scripture from Old and New Testaments linking together Passover--Pentecost to Easter--Pentecost. Although I don't remember (but remember that was yesterday) Pastor Doug mentioning the fact that it was Memorial weekend or making any attempt to tie in our national celebration with these events from the Jewish and Christian calendars, the appeal was to remember Pentecost. And remember it together within its historical context—both pre and post Christ's ministry. Pentecost does not make complete sense without Passover, nor does it make complete sense without Easter. And Easter--Pentecost together are not fully understood without the Jewish celebrations with which they coincide. Death and resurrection are completed in us as we allow God to send us out in His power. God has saved us in a wonderful and costly way, but it's rather empty if we sit on our couches (my words not his, although my couch was comfortable as I sat listening to his message) and never respond.

So I need to remember to serve and sacrifice, because I've been given the privilege and responsibility by those in the past who have served and sacrificed to put me in the place I now sit. A place which is out of the rain, away from the soccer fields, and not close enough to the paint brushes. (I actually would have been painting--the roller and brush sit right next to the paint can--had this weekend's weather not one more time forced me inside, affording me the opportunity to blog, blog, blog.) So I now leave my hovel to look again at the skies, praying to see some blue, which would give me the chance to serve the Warden and my first-born with a fresh coat of paint in time for his fast-approaching graduation party this Saturday.