Remember

Psalm 77 reads, "I remembered you, O God, and I groaned; I mused and my spirit grew faint."

We were sitting on a beach on Memorial Day when I was struck by thoughts of the past. I began to remember times at a lake outside of Clarkdale, Miss., when I was young (a half-century ago). I remember putting an ice cube down the bathing suit of my aunt, Elsie, and the ruckus that produced.

I remember ...

That's what I was struck by yesterday. I was struck by thoughts of all those young men, and women perhaps, who had lost their lives for what we declare to be freedom today. I was struck by grills growing hot and charcoal smells drifting across warm sand. I was struck by memories of long, long gone folks I wish I could talk to today. Just for a few minutes. Just run a few ideas by them.

We capped off a day in which we got mildly sunburned, my wife, Mary, and my 7-year-old grandson Gabe, by watching a Narnia movie that ended with main characters saying goodbye to the Christ figure-lion and heading into heaven.

I remember ...

Seems to me that the Bible is one big ol' photo book, without the photos. It's family memories, perhaps not of burgers on the grill, of times spent doing many things not the least of which was worshipping God.

I remember ...

A little white church on top of a hill that signalled the way to a graveyard in which aunts, uncles and my mom and dad rest.

I remember ...

A little white church where I learned for the first time that Jesus loved me.

I remember ...

Summer nights with WLS out of Chicago playing Creedence on the late night radio. Baseball that seemed to never end but ended all too quickly. Dogs whose names now escape me but each of whom were dogs of a lifetime. Gardens with butter beans and corn and that summer I planted popcorn only to have the birds take it. A breeze at night instead of air conditioning as we opened the windows and let the big ol' house fan that my dad bought from the Meridian, Miss., library suck in air that smelled of honey suckle. Friends I saw almost every day for 10 years that I never see and haven't for 20 years. Such a shame. I grieve for lost friendships, still.

I remember ...

It's all gone now. The summers are going quickly. The winters of back ache and knee ache and stiffness stay too long. The family I grew up in, grew into, is going about as quickly. We have more funerals than we have reunions, it seems.

And even my memories are starting to fade.