Remembered

We need people in our lives who have known us over the decades

On Saturday night I received a surprise text: my Conference Superintendent was planning to worship with us the following morning. Within the first year of a new appointment to a congregation, CSs like to experience the worship leadership of the pastor and their church. It’s a time for connection and strengthening of bonds, and for me, the presence of my colleague/supervisor is always a gift.

Once upon a time, “back in the mid-1990s,” this superintendent and I knew each other fairly well because we were in the ordination process together, and at one point we served congregations within thirty minutes of one another. We have been in leadership development groups over the years, and we have seen each other in denominational gatherings off and on during the past three decades. She was instrumental in my recent return to the Minnesota Conference, and I value the vocational connections we continue to share.

At the conclusion of worship yesterday, she offered greetings from our Bishop and affirmed my ministry. She had kind words to say, among which were identifying me as a steady and courageous leader. She told the congregation that many pastors wouldn’t preach what I preached in their first year; later she affirmed to me individually that she understood the message to be on target for where my congregation finds itself at this time.

During her words to the congregation, she affirmed the connection she and I have had and said, “Your pastor is the same person I have known over the years, with growth that has come along the way.” (I am paraphrasing, but that was the gist of her message).

As she spoke those words, I made a startling realization: I have very few people in my life who could say that. I have family members who have known me at least that long, but they have not known me in my vocational role. I have had other colleagues along the way, but most of those are now retired or dead. The only other person in my life who could speak to the past thirty years is my late partner in ministry my deceased wife.

I think that’s one of the things I miss most since Claudia’s surprising death a little more than a year ago: someone to remember, with me, in lived detail where my life has been. Because we had a close friendship as well as a marital bond, Claudia was my sounding board, and the one who knew all the details of my individual life and the life we shared together. I no longer have someone to remember me in quite the same way, and that makes the journey much lonelier.

So now I find myself serving as the “rememberer” with others in my family. For my adult children and their children, I am the sole memory keeper of our family’s history. When Claudia was living, we both held the memories, but she more than I because she was the data keeper, the one who was designated for our family’s intricacies. She was the one playing on the field of life, I was simply the one who added “color” to her reportage.

I’m learning that one of the most disorienting things about the loss of a significant person in my life is that my role has shifted (in so many ways, but in at least this one): I am now the sole keeper of memories. My chief task is to be the one who remembers.

I think that’s why it meant so much yesterday to be remembered.