remembering

trust. and faith. trust follows- or is it first?

i've been thinking about the importance of rituals and disciplines and holidays.  how they are more than patterns. more than frames to hang our days on- they are triggers to stop.  they are flags to remember.   they are pause- if we allow them to be.  they are opportunities to not forget things that we do forget. the things that often matter the most- but get stuck on the back burner of life.  so we need to dust them off- the important things.

holidays and traditions are also important sociologically- they are a group experience- they are collective memory- they are ways of teaching the next generation what was learned - passing on the story- histories of lessons- uniting us- calling us back to our people before- when the same dna was there and the same blood types and the same need for love and the same feeling of pain and the same desire to be known and valued.  they teach us where we came from- where we've been and might not want to go back to- they remind us that there is nothing new under the sun, or the moon- that we're not alone.

martin luther king jr day.  veterans day.  tomorrow is presidents day.  and there are religious holidays- all religions have them and we are told to keep them.  i'm most familiar with the christian and jewish holidays.  i love the purity of the jewish holidays.  they haven't been squashed by reindeers and easter bunnies.   i've been fortunate to celebrate passover many times with my jewish friends.  i love the many parts and symbols- that each have a lesson and a memory. and that it's about remembering God and his protection and provision- that they were not a forgotten people- that the celebration is to be a reminder that they still aren't forgotten.

Passover took on new meaning to me when i was in the eighth grade and my best friend, the one i'd celebrated passover with, became sick unto death.  and it was the week of passover.    i remember the D.C. hotel room - where i was sitting- overhearing my father on the phone getting the news that my friend was perhaps dying in the ICU. we were driving back to boston from our family vacation visiting grandparents in north carolina. it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.  i remember looking out the window for the next 8 hours in the car- but all i saw was the rain- the drops on my window- how they start at the top and then fall -making a track that joins other drops- sliding together until they land at the bottom of the window and become part of the river leading  back to the air again. that was it- the blurry countryside and the crystal clear rain and my tears and my prayers. i would send one on each rain drop that i watched fall, and i begged.  i begged God to please allow death to pass over her.   i had faith that He could- but i wasn't sure that He would- because even at 13 i knew that bad things are allowed to happen- that we don't always understand it- that we are small- that life is fragile- that things aren't fair- but it didn't make me question God's existence.  so i cried and i begged and i hoped and i believed and i waited and i cried some more.

by the end of the week- we knew she was going to live.  she'd had her own passover.  we all had.  but we still didn't know what survival would look like.  would there be brain damage- would she talk and walk?  so i cried and begged and hoped and prayed some more.  it took a long time for her to come back to us as we knew her- as we now know her- but she did.  she walks and talks and spends her days helping other people as their doctor and their mother and their wife and their friend.  as my friend.

so passover is a really important season to remember.  it's a 'double'.  it's religious and personal.  we all have our own practices, or our own dates of remembrance.  i'm thinking back to the times that i forget.  those of deep wonder- of crying out and being answered. of when the answer wasn't always what i wanted - but even still, i wasn't abandoned. judes birthday is in a few weeks (see post 'happy birthday jude' for details).  how quickly i forget those months when we wondered if he'd walk and talk- when we lived in a season of waiting and hoping- when we lived with a daily sense of our fragility- and yet the gift it gave us of perspective and the importance of real things- family, friendship, faith and smiling.  i live with jude- i see him all the time- but i still forget.  bryn was born with a hole in his lung that kept him in the ICU for a week- i cried and begged and prayed- and thank God, he's fine, but i still forget.  i see zoe all day and see how far she's come- and again- i forget.

maybe i need to turn remembering into a practice. a daily ritual. 5 minutes to reflect on where i've been- to be thankful and not be stuck in the minor details.  uncover the important parts and live in them. because i am small and life is fragile- but God is not.