In Memory

I was once told that memories sit in a variety of ways – some sit softy, some violently, and some
in a much more neutral way. In the 24-years since graduating with my MA in Counseling and
receiving my first licensure, I have had the privilege of sharing space with people who are
working through complex times, and I have come to fully appreciate this sentiment regarding
memories.

Over the weekend, I attended the memorial service of a colleague and friend of my father. For
many reasons, this service sat in a way in which I struggle to find the words to describe. For one,
the memorial service took place in the town where I spent my elementary, middle, and high
school years. Like many people, my formative years in a small town sits in both joyful and
complicated ways. The daughter of the recently deceased was a grade ahead of me in school and
we attended school and church together throughout our years in our hometown. To add another
layer, my father died a little over 15-years ago, and the deceased spoke at my father’s memorial
service. In my memory, he not only spoke, but he shared memories of my father that I did not
know, which added an element of joy for me in a profoundly dark time.

We each hold memories of those who have gone before us, relationships which have changed or
come to an end, and memories of physical spaces that hold deep meaning for us. Memories that
sit and make us laugh, memories that bring a sorrowful note to our souls, and memories that we
work hard to move through. Memories sit and become part of our narrative and help to form us,
regardless of their origin.

One more thought to share: The image this week is of First United Methodist Church in Portales,
New Mexico. The structure you see was a safe place which held many memories of teaching me
about my faith as a young person, what it means to be loved and cared for, the joy of potlucks,
youth lock-ins, and so much more. This House of Memories was torn down in the early 2000s –
approximately a decade after I moved away – and was replaced by a new and more modern
structure. I realized as I sat in this new structure in memory of my father’s friend and colleague,
and behind his daughter, that I missed the old sanctuary – I missed the brick walls and wood
floor; I missed the balcony where I would sit with my friends during worship and laugh and sing
as loud as we could as if no one could hear us; I missed the high ceilings with the 1970s light
fixtures; and I missed the smell of the space. I think what I missed most of all in that moment as I
sat in this new space, was the childlike wonder and magical awe I had for a place that now holds
so many memories for me.

I know it’s OK to work-through both joyful and complicated memories, and I know it’s
important to realize that we each create sacred memories wherever we find ourselves.
Let us be people who share our memories – whatever they are! – and are present and open to
ever-forming new ones.

In Memory,

Kelly