Tag: ministry

A minister’s memory

By Rev. Dawn M. Adams

I stand.

I speak.

I reminisce,

but I never had a coffee

                                or beer

                                or donut with you.

We never sat on the porch and talked.

We never took a walk,

or called each other on overwhelming days.

And yet,

I remember.

I share.

I weave together your life.

I’ve never seen your face (except in a picture).

I’ve never held your hand.

I’ve never seen the mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

I have, though, laughed your jokes retold,

                cried at your loss,

                wondered about you more than people realize.

Before your family came into my office,

I never even knew you existed.

I didn’t know your name until your family gave it to me so that I could

                write the liturgy of farewell and print the bulletins;

and yet you fill my heart.

You were dead before I even met you;

yet, you are alive now in my memory and written on my heart.

It is a sacred act – to re-member:

                to put back together somethings that’s been torn apart,

                to make space for the mourning and the pain,

                and also to allow for joy and love to reemerge.

I never heard your voice,

                but I did get the blessing of hearing from many who loved you.

I heard about how you met your spouse,

or why you never chose to marry –

about that car you lovingly restored,

about your famous stuffed shells.

I heard about your hopes and dreams,

about your travels,

and your accomplishments;

sometimes about the things you wish you had done,

but didn’t;

or about the challenges you faced.

Sometimes, I’ve heard about your own losses,

and even sometimes your own misdeeds.

I’ve watched pain, bewilderment, shock, anger, disbelief, satisfaction, horror, gratitude flicker.

I have witnessed the heartache left by your absence.

I’ve heard the testimony of your loved ones about who you were to them.

I’ve heard a lot about you;

and spoke about you before a gathered congregation.

You have died.

You no longer walk this earth.

I never knew you in this life;

and yet, I find myself thinking about you.

Your memory is a blessing to me.

To bury someone is a sacred act;

To prepare to bury someone and hear the stories of a person’s life is a privilege.

It is a holy calling to walk with loved ones to the graveside.

It is an honor to get to know those we did not know in life.

I didn’t know you

                and yet I did.

Blessings to you and to all who knew you.

All Rights reserved. Permission to use in religious or educational settings with citation.