Forty Years and a Hope Backpack

 

Del had his 40th class reunion this past Saturday night. Yes. Del graduated from high school 40 years ago!

When we pulled up, Del looked at me and said, "One hour. We'll only be here one hour."

He was nervous. Although he has seen some of his classmates since graduation, life happens doesn't it? You lose touch. You change. You simply don't know what it's going to be like to be around people from a time and place so far removed from your every day.

We pulled into the parking lot at 5:30pm and didn't leave until 10:30pm. One hour turned into five and  Del was still hesitant to leave when we did.

Del and Laverne

Del and Laverne. I have heard stories about their shenanigans since Del and I first started hanging out. Laverne is legendary in our family and I finally got the chance to meet him! 

Del and I have been chatting about the reunion: how glad he was he went, how great it was to see and  reconnect with his classmates, how he wants to see more of them, how much life changes, and how some people are always and forever a big part of your story.

This morning I woke up to these lyrics:

Great is the Lord and worthy of glory.

Great is the Lord and worthy of praise.

Great is the Lord we lift up our voice, we lift up our voice.

Great is the Lord.

Do you remember this song? It was written by Michael W. Smith and according to a Google search he wrote it in 1983 which might explain why they showed up in my brain stew this morning.

It's funny how memories work. What triggers them? Where do thoughts and experiences hang out and why do they show up when they do? Today I believe the trigger was my first view of the morning with all it's gray, overcast glory. It reminded me of summer mornings at my best friend Jayne's cottage at Chesley Lake. We would spend youth week at the camp and it seems cloudy mornings were not unusual - at least in my memories.

From Chesley Lake Youth Week by brain jumped to the Hallman chapel. We are standing and singing. The windows are open, I'm stealing glimpses of the leaves outside swaying to the summer breeze and I'm singing. My voice and the voices of everyone inside, without any instrumental accompaniment, are  lifted up in song and knowing I'm a part of something so beautiful is simply something to know.  Did we ever sing Michael W. Smith? Maybe. I don't remember, but what we did sing remains in my memory as triumphant and inspiring.

Hallman Chapel at Chesley Lake

 

To say I miss those summer nights and Sunday mornings in Hallman Chapel is ridiculous. I long for them. I ache knowing time doesn't go backwards, and as I sit here I almost crave one moment back there as deeply as I crave my next breath. Those times were so fragile, so priceless. I had a fortune in my hands, and I was completely oblivious to all of it. 

There we were singing in four-part harmony. We were looking around, making eye contact with people and as we sang we were like one voice. We were together in a beautiful place with amazing acoustics and life seemed shiny and sparkly.  I was innocent and hopeful for all of life's possibilities. Adventure, mystery and the whisper of romance were everywhere and I simply didn't see it. I was absolutely clueless.

Here's where I rant so prepare yourself. Is this old age? 

Now we have cell phones, Facebook 'friends' and so much time for social media we apparently are losing our social skills.   People don't look up, even even when a real-life, flesh and blood human being is in front of us or beside us. Our brains are so addled by all of it we are lucky to focus on anything tangible or anyone breathing for more than 10 seconds. Screens are everywhere. Praise bands blast away our ability to harmonize at church and we think easy, convenient, and fast is the best way to go yet we are more stressed as a society than we ever have been.

Okay. Rant over but I'd trade my phone for a 30 minute 1986 moment in Hallman chapel in a heartbeat. 

Do you ever want to go back? I know not everyone does. Some people are glad to be done with the past. I don't want to live there. I'm not suggesting I want to re-live heartache, and puberty (my hair was atrocious and I had zero confidence in myself), I simply want to whisper in the ear of my teenage self who is standing beside her best friend Jayne, singing her heart out on a July night in 1986, and tell her, "take this in. Take this all in. Look around. Breathe deep. You don't know this yet and there is so much ahead of you but this, this is special and I don't want you to miss any of it."

I wonder if Del and his classmates would look at their high school photos and tell themselves the same thing? Do we ever stare at our phones and the post we're glancing at, or the video we just watched and think, this moment is special?

Let's pray. 

LORD,

I'm not sure what to do with all these thoughts. Where do I put them? I have to go to work! Life is not as mysterious, adventurous or romantic as it was 40 years ago. Today life feels a bit more sad and heavy. I long for more community, more hope, more possibility, more connection, more joy, more singing, more faithfulness, more of you. Help me find a taste of all these things today. I want to throw my phone in the garbage and then I want to pluck the phones from everyone I see and throw them all in the garbage. Oh my. I'm getting old. Clearly I need you to lead me through today. Time is ticking and I must go but please, attach these words and memories to me somehow. Can they be like a 'hope back-pack' you prepare for me and help me slip into on my way out the door? I want to wear it. I want to be faithful. I want to be full of hope, possibility, and I want to have the tools I need to build community and make connections. I want more joy, more triumphant singing, and I'll say it again - I want to be more faithful.

Today and everyday give me enough hope to believe the world is truly and honestly full of your unfailing love. (Psalm 33:20-22). May all the angst I feel for times past find it's place in you. Thank you for taking it. Be my hope. 

Amen.