Do not remember the former thing, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43 18-20

Stand up and take your mat and go to your home Mark 2:11

We are all creatures of our memories. As I am learning over and over again in the mindfulness meditation class, our present lives are so very often colored by our expectations based on past events. Whether an event is pleasurable or unpleasurable often depends on our expectations going in. Because we "remember the former things" and "consider the things of old," we often can not see the new thing that is about to spring forth. We are unable to see the way out of our wilderness or the quenching stream of water in our desert. Such is the case for me and my birthdays. I put on those expectation glasses of the past every year about this time. And the script goes like this:

Around the middle of February for most of my childhood, my parents left for my father's business conference in Florida. All the railroad labor lawyers met in sunny Florida for their own form of spring training. I don't remember it, but pictures attest that I spent my first birthday with my aunt and grandmother. Most birthdays were spent with a family member or friend spending the week at our house, taking care of me. This wasn't just a practice for my birthday--in general, my family didn't celebrate birthdays. I never did learn the actual date of my parents' birthdays until college. So, in high school, when my friends had a surprise 16th birthday party for me, I was amazed. The trend continued when I married into the Kelleher family. In Atlanta, birthdays were the occasion for a Sunday afternoon get-together of the whole family with the grill fully loaded and the requisite green bean casserole, coca-cola congealed salad, squash cassarole, and hershey bar pie. Wow! Now my own immediate family always celebrates birthdays with favorite food and a processional march of the presents. Yet, it is so easy for the demons of birthdays past to creep into my consciousness. Is this loving feast too good to be true? Will this be the year that it all stops for good? On Sunday, that old feeling was creeping back. Too busy at home with healing routines to worry about birthday this year, I felt the old sadness creep in. "Go away!" I said to it. But, as usual, the old sadness hung around. I arrived at church on Sunday having forgotten what day it was. As I walked to the sacristy, Stewart cried out from the chapel: "There's the birthday girl!" "Ugh," I thought to myself, "it's THAT day." At 8:30, Barbara Cates gave the bread in honor of friends who had the same birthday year. We are both the Year of the Dog. She meant to include me! Hmm...Then at 10:30, I was very surprised--birthday presents, a birthday prayer, a birthday song with an Olympic prelude, cake and balloons. It was really true! I hadn't been forgotten. And the 8 year old little girl knew she was loved. Leave it to the Body of Christ to help us see the new creation right in front of our very eyes--even when we try to blindfold ourselves with the shroud of the past. When we hold onto our mats of loneliness and sadness, Jesus bids us get up and walk. By the end of Sunday, I was walking free. Thank you Memorial Church! Thank you for reminding me that in Christ, I am remembered and loved. I am always home.

Text: Isaiah 43, Mark 2:1-12

Pondering: What things of old are you holding on to? What mat are you grasping? How has a community helped you stand up and walk?

In Christ's Love,