LOOKING BACK, LOOKING FORWARD Part 7 Establishing Memorials

Last month I thought this series ended but the Lord reminded me of something very important to consider. In the last issue of the “Bottom Line” I spoke of the memorials that were established in my life, but the Lord caused me to pause with this question, “How are memorials established?”

Memorials often find their foundation in relationships and are clearly established according to the type of relationship that is established. One vivid memory I recently visited was part of a memorial that surrounded my relationship with my stepfather. He married my mother at age 10. They met in the hospital where my mother worked as a nurse’s aide. At the time, my stepfather was in the hospital due to an accident at the sawmill where he worked that ended with him having a badly broken leg. From the time of their meeting to the time they were married was two weeks, and years later, when they died, it was within a little over four months apart—just a few months prior to their 50th wedding anniversary.

One memorial that is ingrained in my mind was the day that my mother, brother and I traveled to Cascade, Idaho where my stepfather lived for the marriage to take place. It was the first time I would meet the man who would have a tremendous influence on my life. I remember the sights, sounds, and events around the bus trip and the marriage and my interaction with him as I asked him if I could call him “Daddy.” Needless to say, he willingly took the place and responsibility of being a great “Dad.”

Part of the memories that often made him bigger than life to me was his willingness to expose my brother and me to his adventurous life that caused us to once again dream and consider possibilities. After he recovered from his broken leg, he went back to work at the sawmill doing clean-up work. When he came home for his “lunch” hour at night, he would take my brother and me to work with him. We would stay in the boiler room until the last shift went home, and then he would come and get us. That sawmill became our playground as my brother and I ran up and down the different tables, walkways and ladders, while occasionally helping our dad clean up. Now, years later, when I fondly think of that time it not only serves as memorial to my daddy, but that old sawmill which was replaced with a new one which eventually was completely taken down after many of the sawmills closed in our area due to environmental “concerns.”

Relationships determine what kind of memorial is established. If there is no relationship there can be no memorials resurrected. For example, Israel tasted the bitter pill of learning what it means to be without God’s intervention. In Hosea 11:5 we are told, “Even the LORD God of hosts; the LORD is his memorial.” Whose memorial? Israel. To Abraham, God was his shield, great reward and portion of the inheritance (Genesis 15:1; Psalm 16:5). In the case of Israel, they had entered the Promised Land and eventually fell into grave rebellion. Because of their rebellion, God was establishing some hindsight based on what they had when they were right with Him. The life they had because of God’s blessings would become a silent mocking memorial to what they had as His chosen people but had foolishly squandered away. They had cast it off as they went into blatant transgression, chasing after other gods and dancing and worshipping before strange altars.

You need to keep in mind God always spoke of Himself in the present tense with His true saints. The great I AM who spoke to Moses from the burning bus, the introduction of Himself as the God of the living, as well as the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. His presence with His people was not to serve as a memorial but as an ever-present reminder that as the Pillar He would guide them, and as the Fire at night, He would protect them; but, because of sin their former life in God would become a memorial to them of what was and would never be for the present generation (Exodus 3:14-15; Matthew 22:32; Luke 20:38).

I thought about the people who had left an impression on my life that became a memorial to me. When the Lord reminded me of these incidents, I looked back to ponder the reason memorials were established.

I remembered that in my first years on earth at one time I lived in a green-colored house, but I only slightly remember one room where the light came through the front windows. The reason I remember that house is because that is the first time I had any recollection of celebrating Resurrection Sunday with my family. What was the most impressive part of this event was that my mother had bought special clothes for my brother and me for Sunday services, and later pictures were taken of us in those very same outfits. I have that picture. How grown up and pretty I felt in my new dress and how “handsome” my older brother looked in his new outfit. We were quite a pair.

It’s funny how I associated the green house with that one occasion. Granted, that day was memorialized in a picture, but I still remember what I felt like in those clothes. The thing about memorials is that one will never know what will touch a person and what surroundings will be revisited when recounting them.

Memorials are established when they are highlighted by something special that is out of the ordinary. It might seem ordinary or insignificant to others, but the impact it leaves on you makes is greatly elevated, leaving it a memorial to cherish. It is for this reason that, we as believers, have a memorial we celebrate every time we take communion. It points us backward to a time when love was magnified on a cross, as forgiveness was extended to what seemed unforgivable. It calls us to examine ourselves to make sure we are worthy to partake of something sacred. As we remember the cross of Christ, we are lifted up by the promise of observing the ordinance of communion until He comes. The past, the present and the future are covered by this memorial of remembrance.

Most people struggle with bad memories. Many want to forget times of despair and loss. However, there can be memorials established even in bad times. When my parents were divorced, (before my mother met my stepdad) the transition was hard on all of us. It was a dark time with mostly unpleasant memories. In a sense, my innocence received a fatal blow. Life went on but the struggles were hard, ushering in fear, uncertainty, and experiences of loneliness and isolation. The school I attended was full of “the snobbish elite.”

When all you see is darkness or dark shadows, any bright spot can end up becoming a memorial that causes hope to arise. I had a couple of such incidents during that time that overshadowed the bad. Two of them involve my fourth-grade teacher. The sole of one of my shoes was coming off. When I got to school, I was ushered into a side room, and my teacher handed me a brand-new pair of shoes. She also provided clothing so I could participate in a program. Even six decades later I remember that teacher’s name, Mrs. Rue.

There was also another bright spot at that school. Out of all the kids that attended that school there was one girl, Elaine, that would talk to me occasionally and even play tetherball with me. I can’t say we were friends, but the issue was not friendship for me, but the fact that someone cared, showed some consideration, and did not treat me like a non-person.

Another incident that serves as a memorial to me was during my transition into a new life after my mother married my stepfather. It was a new beginning, a new school, a new teacher and a new class. It was the first year of teaching for my fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Liehe but she was a hometown girl, and it seemed so natural to her. She cared and she was kind.

I managed to attend a class reunion of the grades from 1921-2012 in 2022. It would mark my 49th year I graduated from High School. Guess who I got to see and thanked her for being a great teacher: Mrs. Liehe. No doubt she had influenced many students and teachers through the years, but like the lone leper out of ten who came back to Jesus after being healed, I was grateful I could thank her five decades later.

Another group of people I thanked at the class reunion were my old classmates. They were typical kids but compared to what I came from the year before, they were heaven-sent and part of my healing. They allowed me to be one of the “kids.” Because of them, I learned that it is all about attitude when it comes to the type of memorials that are established. We tend to see those moments that serve as rays of sunshine that make life look hopeful and better.

I have attempted to thank the people in the past for their acts of consideration and blessing. Some people act surprised, others act as if it is no big deal, and some are touched by it. However, I never know if my thankfulness also establishes some memorial in their life.

This brings me to two other important factors when it comes to memorials. I have already mentioned attitudes. Attitude means everything when it comes to the reason for a memorial. If one does not possess an attitude to properly receive a blessing, how can a memorial be established? If a person has a right attitude, memorials are established out of thankfulness for a blessing, gift or grace shown that may represent a sacrifice, or going the extra mile, or allowing you to just “be” without feeling judged and condemned.

The final factor that will establish a memorial is something called “kindness.” I realize the common thread for the memorials established in my life was “kindness.” Whether it was a matter of kind acts, or kind people caring about my plight. My new clothes I received from my parents so many years ago at Resurrection Sunday was a financial sacrifice for my mother. However, out of love she showed great kindness and grace. As for my stepfather, he ended up suffering from Alzheimer’s, but there was one moment we had together that I was able to put my arms around his neck and thank him for being my “Daddy,” I was assured he heard and understood every word.

Mrs. Rue and Mrs. Liehe were kind women. Kind women display tremendous grace. It naturally exuded from them because I think they also had a love for children. My one regret is that I never got to thank Mrs. Rue.

This brings me to God. The Bible talks about His loving kindness. Sometimes we forget to pause long enough to remember God’s loving kindness. When we think of His sacrifice on the cross, we can be assured of His love, but how many of us have noted or erected a memorial for His unlimited kindness that He continues to show through others? Every gift is a matter of His kindness. Every act of grace is a matter of His kindness. His kindness is so tender, caring, full of benevolence, and compassion, and yet how many of us are in the right attitude of thankfulness to recognize it, acknowledge it, and fall before His throne and worship Him for His unending, glorious loving-kindness that has been, or is, being extended through the caring ways and hands of His servants?