Uplook - May 27, 2023
Happy Memorial Day weekend dear saints,
Over the years many of you have heard me tell the story of traveling with my grandmother (my father’s mother) to the cemetery where my grandfather is buried on Memorial Day each year. She would gather flowers from her seemingly huge flower beds and we would ride in her Blue and White four door 1957 Chevrolet with me holding the buckets of flowers in water. Once we arrived we would clean off the grave marker and carefully place the flowers. Now…I barely could remember my grandfather because he died when I was only 4 years old but I will never forget the devotion and care of my grandmother.
Lori and I had a chance to walk through that cemetery recently when we were visiting my hometown. My grandmother is now buried next to my grandfather with dates noted on the headstone. Only a few feet away, my father and mother are also buried. There is a large tree nearby under which I sad 35 years ago in the summer contemplating what it meant to quit my job at the Credit Union and move 500 miles away to begin my first pastorate. It is a place which brings back many memories. Some are painful because of the losses involved but most are good, remembering the relationships, love, and care represented by those headstones and that particular place. We have moved nearly 3,500 miles (according to Google Maps) up and down the West Coast of the US over these years and have a number of memorials reminding us of people and experiences in the places we have lived. Some again are painful because of the losses involved but most are good remembering the relationships, love, and care.
I have a few more memories of Memorial Days from earlier years which I will share. When I was young…I remember my father often choosing that day to bring out the paint brush and paint the cedar shakes which lined our house. The color was always light grey (not sure why) and he would begin the summer painting of the house on Memorial Day while listening to the Indianapolis 500 auto race on the radio while us children ran through the sprinklers. I remembered that yesterday as I purchased paint to repaint a bedroom in our home. And a few years later after Lori and I married we gathered with her family at a nearby mountain lake for a Memorial Day weekend camping trip. We were conscious of her parents age (over 5050 20 20 20 20 Recent
Over the years many of you have heard me tell the story of traveling with my grandmother (my father’s mother) to the cemetery where my grandfather is buried on Memorial Day each year. She would gather flowers from her seemingly huge flower beds and we would ride in her Blue and White four door 1957 Chevrolet with me holding the buckets of flowers in water. Once we arrived we would clean off the grave marker and carefully place the flowers. Now…I barely could remember my grandfather because he died when I was only 4 years old but I will never forget the devotion and care of my grandmother.
Lori and I had a chance to walk through that cemetery recently when we were visiting my hometown. My grandmother is now buried next to my grandfather with dates noted on the headstone. Only a few feet away, my father and mother are also buried. There is a large tree nearby under which I sad 35 years ago in the summer contemplating what it meant to quit my job at the Credit Union and move 500 miles away to begin my first pastorate. It is a place which brings back many memories. Some are painful because of the losses involved but most are good, remembering the relationships, love, and care represented by those headstones and that particular place. We have moved nearly 3,500 miles (according to Google Maps) up and down the West Coast of the US over these years and have a number of memorials reminding us of people and experiences in the places we have lived. Some again are painful because of the losses involved but most are good remembering the relationships, love, and care.
I have a few more memories of Memorial Days from earlier years which I will share. When I was young…I remember my father often choosing that day to bring out the paint brush and paint the cedar shakes which lined our house. The color was always light grey (not sure why) and he would begin the summer painting of the house on Memorial Day while listening to the Indianapolis 500 auto race on the radio while us children ran through the sprinklers. I remembered that yesterday as I purchased paint to repaint a bedroom in our home. And a few years later after Lori and I married we gathered with her family at a nearby mountain lake for a Memorial Day weekend camping trip. We were conscious of her parents age (over 50
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