Remember

A few months ago, our church held a Sunday worship service under a large white tent outside. It had been set up to host a celebration of life service the day before, so, as the tent and chairs had been rented for the weekend, we took the opportunity to gather outside on a morning that was sunny and dry with temps in the 70s. I can’t recall the Gospel reading or the theme of the morning’s message, but I can specifically recall a few points our priest made on his calling in ministry.

He said, that after so many years as a priest in God’s church, he had finally discerned his purpose in that role—to help us remember. To help us remember that we are children of God, to help us remember that we are deeply loved, to help us remember what Christ brought to the world, what Christ suffered on the cross, and what Christ did for us in his resurrection.

My heart fluttered. Maybe it was the setting, because during wintertime, even in south Texas, I find myself longing for a healthy dose of sunshine. Maybe it was the brief applause our priest received by our smaller congregation that so deeply appreciates his genuine messages. I do know that in his statement, I found the word that I want to serve as my purpose as a mother, as a wife, as a daughter, sister, and friend.  Remember.

Life is so complicated lately. Not just in the day-to-day balance of household chores, full-time work, the lives of three quickly growing sons, and all the things to which I just can’t seem to say ‘no thank you,’ but also in the depth of our nation’s struggles right now, the news on television, the division, the anger, greed, and bitterness. It is such a struggle to keep living in our bubble, trying to help these boys pave their way, while considering the world into which we are launching them.

I am grateful that Ash Wednesday occurred on Valentine’s Day this year. Each year, from February 1^st through February 14^th, I place little love notes on each son’s bedroom door, and the note for the 14^th this year simply reminded them, ‘You are loved.’

You are a loved child of mine, and you are a deeply loved child of God, unconditionally. And in that expression of love, I say to them:

To my young teenager, feeling slight rejection, embarking on new responsibilities, contemplating the upcoming experience of high school – remember that God is with you, he will not leave you nor forsake you, he will uphold you. —Isaiah 41:10

To my preteen, changing so much under the weight of middle school culture, holding tightly to the heart he has been gifted, continually strengthening his friendships and his place on the baseball field – remember, you can do all things through Christ, who gives you strength and who shepherds you. —Philippians 4:13, Psalm 23:1

To my youngest son, living joyfully, making friends laugh, finding new activities and talents, and figuring out how to balance school responsibilities, extra curriculars, and time at home, and who loves Jesus – remember to shine brightly your light before others, so that they might see the good works of your Father in heaven. —Matthew 5:16

I want to serve as a reminder of all the good love and good grace that we are each gifted from above to each person I love so dearly, each person I encounter, each person with whom I make eye contact. While the theme of love resonated on Ash Wednesday this year, I don’t want this practice of helping others to remember God’s love for them to be only a Lenten practice, but a daily one.

I wonder what you might say to those whom you love to help them to remember.

And I hope you can hear me as I say, ‘Remember, you are so very loved.’