Weekly Word for May 27 - June 3, 2005

Weekly Word - May 27, 2005

There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven - - - A time to give birth, and a time to die; - - -
(Ecclesiastes 3: 1 & 2)

As we started to pack up Mike’s things, getting them ready to move to the new house, we found some old things that Mike had been keeping. Picking through the stuff, a lot of it looked like junk - and I had a large trash bag just waiting for it all! But I figured I would ask, and showing the stuff to Mike, I waited . . . “You can throw them all away, all except this one” he said, as he grabbed an old army patch from my hands. “It was grandpa’s” he said, holding the patch in his hands. It had the face of a horse on it, and was the symbol for the cavalry. It is a memory of a time long since gone by - a memory of a young man fighting for his country. It was my father’s - the man who now uses a walker to try to get around - - - the man who is now nearing the end of his life . . .

A time to plant, and time to uproot what is planted . . .

This coming week-end is “Memorial Day” in our country. It is a day to remember those who have died before us - - - a day to remember soldiers and heroes from wars gone by. It is a day to remember times we have long forgotten . . .

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; - - - A time to mourn, and a time to dance.

“Memorial Day” - the day itself brings back memories, of parades and family - of times of laughter and also some tears. When I was a little girl it meant a day off from school and getting ready for the parade. We would all “line up” at the American Legion which was in the southern part of town. And then - the parade would start! The police cars would flash, and the bands would play, and we would walk - - - all the way past the center of town - stopping at each cemetery - until we finally reached the very last cemetery - North Cemetery. It was here that the trumpeter would play “taps”, and a wreath was laid at the monument for soldiers who had died in a war. We were just little children walking with our scout groups - and yet when that special time came - and the trumpet would start playing it‘s sad melody - - - all were quiet! We would stand there watching those men and women in uniform, looking both proud and sad, as they marched together - to lay down that wreath.

At the time, I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand about war - or death - or what it meant to lose someone you loved . . .

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and They staff, they comfort me.
(Psalm 23: 4)

“Memorial Day” - as I got older and had children of my own, this day became a time of family - and watching the parade with the kids. We would have a cook-out each year at my in-laws’ house, with all the family there. All of his sisters and their children would be there - running in and out of the house - until that first siren sounded and the band could be heard coming down the road. Then we would all line up on the street, watching as the bands played, soldiers marched, and firemen in their trucks threw candy as they drove by. The older people in the crowd would take off their hats, and place their hands over their heart - as the flag and soldiers marched by. And then we would clap - for the men and women who had fought for us, so many years ago. But soon the parade was over, and the children headed for the house - and backyard where the food was cooking on the grill. Laughter filled the air, and I wondered if the children even understood what this day meant . . .

But some years were different. They were the years when it would rain. We all still met at the house, laughing and talking as we waited inside. Our umbrellas were ready, as the kids would play on the floor and watch tv. And then we would hear the siren. Standing with our umbrellas, outside on the lawn, we would watch as the police car slowly went by. Then came the bus - with the men and women dressed in their uniforms - waving out the windows. We would wave back, and then head back into the house. That was it! Two minutes standing in the rain - watching as the men and women headed to the cemetery - to honor their friends who had died before them . . .

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; In the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day;
(2 Timothy 4: 7 & 8)

“Memorial Day” - as I remember back to those days, I realize that some of those people who had been there on those days - are now gone. Gram passed away when Mike and Jen were only 10 and 14. They loved their Gramma, as she loved to spoil them! She had a whole drawer in the kitchen, full of candy and treats, just for them! She loved playing cards and bingo with them, always letting them win! Now - she is one of those to be “remembered”. Jonathan is also gone. He was their oldest cousin - handsome and laughing - playing baseball and kickball with the rest. His life - is now just a memory . . .

Remembering - - - honoring those who have gone before us. So many times we don’t want to think about it - about death. But we all have times when we must say “goodbye” to those we love. It is part of living - part of “life”.

For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; . . .
(2 Timothy 4: 6 & 7)

Since those days, when I was just a little girl wondering about Memorial Day and what it all meant, I have had many who have touched my life - and then gone to be with the Lord. Learning how to live - as well as how to say goodbye - has been an amazing thing!

A number of years ago, I was online at one of the sites that I visit quite often. It was a website for a country singer that I love. There was a section on the site for people to post about things other than the singer. It was here that people would talk about their lives or things they liked to do - just sharing ordinary thoughts and feelings. Then one day I noticed a post with the title What is a good song to pick for a funeral? As I read the title - I didn’t think I wanted to read it. My first thought was that it was a joke or something stupid! But I kept seeing the title - and a few days later - I finally decided I would read it. When I did - - - I found myself drawn to a young mother - and her struggles to say - goodbye . . .

The post was written by a young mother who was battling cancer. She told the story of her sickness - and the fact that the doctors didn’t think she would live too much longer. She had two small children, the youngest of which was only a baby. As she wrote, she told of her wishes for her children - - - her hopes and dreams for them - - - and her wishes that they would remember her. As I read, I realized that this post had been a conversation between two people - the mom and another young woman from our group. This other young lady had the courage and strength to write all night with this mom. As I continued to read - I found myself stopping when the tears blurred the screen - as I knew that it wouldn’t be too long - before she died. She had so many questions - so many wonderments - but she also knew that it was time for her to go . . .

For I am already being poured out . . . And the time of my departure has come . . .

As I finished reading - there were so many emotions going on inside. I wondered about the mom - and admired the young woman helping her that night. I hoped for her children - and also for the husband that she talked about so lovingly, the man who wrote to us a few days later - when she had finally passed away . . .

And He shall wipe away every tear from their eyes; . . . And there shall no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain . . .
(Revelations 21: 4)

Remembering - honoring those who’s lives have passed on. Honoring those who have taught us how to “live” until we say goodbye . . .

Norma was dieing, and we knew that was the truth. But as her body was getting sicker - who she was, her soul and spirit, was becoming more alive. We talked about everything - her son, her husband, all that she felt and wondered. She had faith and trust - and I was the one who was afraid. On that last day, even though she was in a coma, I wanted to talk to her. I asked her husband if we could be alone, and he said yes. As I sat there, I knew she was there - I could see it and feel it. As I sat holding her hand, I started to cry “What am I going to do without you?” And then I looked into her eyes - and I knew she was ready. She was ready to walk through that door - to be with Him - where there is no pain - and she would live - forever . . .

With Thy counsel - Thou wilt guide me, And afterward receive me to glory.
(Psalm 73:24)

“Memorial Day” - it is a time to honor the soldiers and heroes, and those who have been loved. Who is a hero? Those who have chosen to love - to give of themselves to another - to open their hearts and choose to give of their own life - to another person. That young mother was a hero - Norma was a hero - Ted’s grandfather and my grandmother were heroes. We all are heroes to those that we choose to love and care for, to give our hearts and our lives to. When we choose to love - and choose life - “death” is just a temporary goodbye - until the day - we meet again . . .

“For neither can they die any more, for they are like angels, and are sons of God, being sons of the resurrection.” “Now He is not the God of the dead, but of the living; for all live to Him.”
(Luke 20: 36 - 38)

As we celebrate “Memorial Day” and honor the lives of those we have loved, I pray that you too choose to open your heart - to love and to care. It is then, that you become a hero in another’s life!

God bless you in the coming week ahead!

In His Love,
Debbie & Ted Ayers