I suspect there are a lot of myths in your life, mostly because I am aware of so many in mine. I am aware that there is more that I cannot see than what I can. I realize that after more than five decades, the myths begin with the idea that things have been perfect. I listen to others talked with rosy memories and I struggle. When one says that “I once was young, now I’m a graybeard – not once have I seen an abandoned believer, or his kids out roaming the streets.” (Psalm 37.25) I know this does not play true for me.
With upcoming events, Life has taking me on a reflective tour of the past twenty-four years. I find myself laughing, crying, remembering and wondering. I know that they are things I could have done better or differently, although I can see how well intentioned I was at the time. I see options and alternatives where limited choices used to reside. I see others as confused as I was and am even as I wonder where their coats marking them as advocates and adversaries have gone. I see people wanting to believe as they struggle with fears and doubts.
In the quietness before dawn, Life reminds me of the following.
Memories are gifts that serve. If a memory is anything else then it has been twisted into something it was never intended to be. Service is alive in our learning from experiences. Service comes in remembering the best of others.
Our history is what it is. We can wrap it up in whatever paper we choose, but whatever it is remains true through the cover. The accountability for choices and failures will ripple through our lives forever. The joys of a moment past will always be as close as we let them be. The good and the bad exist as facts, nothing less and more importantly, nothing more.
We are where we are. Yesterday’s questions sit quietly present, waiting. What will I do in this moment? Will I choose compassion and community?
