Just remember

"This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me." Luke 22: 19b

The power of memory is remarkable.

Our fondest, deepest, favorite memories are almost movie-like, I suspect. We can "see" our memories, can't we? They live, like plants, like pets, like our favorite movies on tape even. Weddings. Births of children. Vacations.

Tops on my list? My family and I went to a baseball game in 1992. Atlanta Braves and Pittsburgh Pirates. A replay of the playoffs from the year before. Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium. It was, as was often with the Braves back then, a pitching duel. We were in the sun in right field when the game began and I whined about the seats.

But in a 1-0 game late, we entered into baseball, or at least Atlanta, lore. Sort of. Well, we were there.

A long ball to right field, seemingly right at us, looked like a tying home run. But at the last second, Atlanta outfielder Otis Nixon planted a right foot into the wall, leaped for all he could, snagged the ball as it travelled over the wall and the next thing any of us knew we were leaping and hugging strangers.

Sure. I was there in the stadium when the Saints beat the Vikings and I was hoisted to my feet by strangers, knowing the Saints were Super Bowl bound. Sure I was in a hotel off Bourbon Street in the French Quarter when the clock ticked down on the Super Bowl, knowing the Saints were going to win that game for the first time.

There have been other minutes, moments, things. Sobriety found and such. I remember riding down a shell-covered road on Dolphin Island, Ala., with a beloved aunt who had had a brain tumor and was told she would never drive again. Laughter shaking my body like some disease. A summer night with that ol' fog machine drifting by. Watermelon and warmth. Days with my wife when time seems to stand still and I love her so much my teeth hurt. Really. Those are times I can't get back, though I ring them up for things like this.

Remember. Remember those times when the kids were kids and your path wasn't clear but you kept running anyway. Remember. Think about all the things that make you smile, about what makes you, well, you. Remember. They're all special.

But the Nixon catch is tops because my family, complete and whole, was there together when it happened. We were young, fairly, and the road ahead seemed so long and filled with promise. When bouncing off the ground and yelling were so much a part of us and drifting apart wasn't even a possibility.

That's what, I suspect, is so special about the best funerals. The loved ones, the friends, even the acquaintances are there to remember those special moments, those times on the boat, those fishing lines dropped into warm water, those days in the winter when Christmas was around the corner and gifts that never quite make it to special were given. Those memories live when the loved one does not any longer.

When Jesus offered bread as an allegory about his body, he offered memories to his crew. Three years of walking the dusty trails of Palestine. Seeing bodies healed. Seeing fish suddenly appearing in nets that were empty. Seeing the dead raised, the prisoners smile. Seeing Jesus. He simply wanted them to remember. When things would get bad, remember. When pain was applied to fearful bodies, remember. When the next step would be so very hard, remember.

With these words, part of our world changed. Jesus gave himself willingly to us. What did he want in return? To be remembered, as He would.

Hank Williams turned that phrase around in a song:
I was alone and drifting on a lonely sea of sin
Nothing but darkness, no sunshine within
I lifted my eyes, to the Lord in the sky
and Jesus remembered me

Take a moment today to remember, first, Jesus and all he did for you. Then take a few more moments and think about your fondest memories. Remember, and smile.