The Power of Remembering

Yesterday, early, I flipped open the most recent issue of Country magazine and turned directly to an article on Kentucky! Sitting there in the pre-dawn hour sipping my coffee the photographs carried me back to our years in that state, August 1989 through the spring of 1998 when we moved to Texas.

Even though the photos in the magazine were primarily from western KY my memories took me back the Bluegrass area were we went to seminary and to the Appalachian area where I served with Hospice as a chaplain after completing my degrees. The images of the sun filtering through the trees and the dawn coming up behind the rolling hills reminded me of my year with Hospice in Madison, Jackson, and Rockcastle counties.

Driving to meet a familly recently assigned to Hospice was like traveling through sacred time, moving toward a sacred place. A sacred adventure awaited us as total strangers would become friends journeying together. I will treasure these moments until the day I die.

Depending on the season of the year, the inital journey to a new home was an experience in extremes. Autumn brought hillsides covered with oranges, yellows, and browns, a sight that always took my breath away. In the winter I drove beside snow covered woods and in the spring orange day lilies filled the ditches with swatches of color. I loved the beauty of God's creation and I treasured the moments I had with the families as we journied together toward an inevetiable end.

That year in Hospice erased my fear of the unknown commonly called death. I met many strong believers, Christians, during that year and was often permitted to experience that sacred time when the soul leaves the body and is united with eternity, unfettered and free. (Of all the people who allowed me into their life during that year, only one man declared himself an athiest.)

My time in Kentucky with Hospice prepared me for the final months of my own mother's life. She died peacefully at home on Saturday, March 30, 2002 after a diagnosis of uterine cancer a few months earleir. Daddy, Mari, and I were with her as she breathed her last. We stood together, carressed her face, and remembered the impact her life had had on each of us. A smile flickered on her lips as she was released from the shackles of this life and entered life eternal.

Thank you, Lord, for memories.