The people of long ago are not remembered…

By Lisa Lickle

Ecclesiastes 1:1-11

The people of long ago are not remembered… (vs. 11)

 

Walking through cemeteries is a favorite pastime of mine. As a historian, the gravestones call out to me, telling the story of who once breathed and walked and then died in this place. Sometimes the stories are poignant--drownings or illness taking whole families. I’m amused by the woman surrounded by her several husbands. Sometimes there’s an infant or elderly people who made their way across the sea to start a new life in a new place at an advanced age.

 

The care of these graves tell a story, too: who is left to remember? Are there flowers, bushes, flags, toys? Is the marker in good shape or faded and crumbling, maybe sunken or fallen? The people of long ago… I carry my thoughts on to who will remember me. What legacy will I leave? Even if there is truly nothing new under the sun, surely there is something precious to leave behind. Micah 6:8 teaches that God’s requirements are that we should act with justice, love mercy and walk humbly with our God. I want to be remembered for being that kind of person.

Things I can do:

Pick up that piece of garbage

Give a quarter at the checkout lane when the person in front of me is short

Let the other car in

Give the memories of my grandparents to my children

Take the single parent neighbor kids to church and shopping for Mother’s Day

Thank you, Father, for all those who walked before me, setting the example. Amen.

 

photo courtesy of WIGen.com, Larry and Linda Kopet

ODDS AND ENDS

 

By Nerola (Rolie) Grady

As the holidays draw near, my brain is filled with many loose end thoughts. Does anyone want to volunteer as a human Personal Reminder?  I didn’t think so.  To relieve the pressure, I’m going to share some observations about life on Lombard Street.

-Tomorrow I’ll travel to my home town for the funeral of a dear family friend, Carol “Toots” Youngwirth.   Toots was a delightful lady.  Creativity was her daily bread and butter.  One neighbor recalled how she made a purse out of potato chip bags.

 Toots and Johnny, her husband, had six kids and several pets to round out their family.  I’ll share two of their pet stories.  There was Dorothy, the white duck, who injured her leg and couldn’t walk.  Rather than get rid of her, Toots and Johnny brought her to the town doctor (my father). “Doc, see what you can do.  Dorothy needs help!”  Dad didn’t usually treat  animals, but he agreed  Dorothy was in a bad way.  While they held her beak shut, Dad put a splint on Dorothy’s leg.  She  got well and lived to waddle for many more years.

The next story is about Happy, their white Scotty dog.  He held center stage until his death  a year ago in January.  Since the backyard was frozen, they decided to delay Happy’s funeral until the spring.  Happy was stored in a chest freezer in the garage.  Johnny built a casket out of fine walnut, and a vault was purchased from the local funeral home.

In May, Toots planned a special ceremony  on Mother’s Day.  About 35 people came, along with ten of Happy’s doggy friends.  Of course, there was a viewing.  Then Dawn, their daughter, played “How Much Is That Doggy In the Window” on her accordion.  Several readings were also given before Toots served a luncheon for the visitors.

There are no words for good memories.  They are just part of life’s fabric.  Those moments weave together a melody of love that is sweet to hear.

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-A couple funnies from my Facebook page:

“I’m half Greek and half German.  I’m so upset with myself and am tired of bailing myself out.”  Tina Fey

“Persistence, thy name is small children.  If Guantanamo Bay had used 2-yr-olds to question suspects, they could close the prison down in no time flat.”  (Susan Stanley, my niece)

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A Thanksgiving Prayer

Father, thank You there is too much to remember.  Thank You for moments of seeing Your fingerprints on each day,  the beauty of human love, adventures in Your kingdom, and the awareness that You are MORE than enough for whatever I need.  Amen.