If that is true of a vicarage year, it is even more true of my first call. When my name was read off on call day, I heard the words but did not know what they meant. I had no idea where Cairo, New York, was. This was before cell phones and internet and it was so small a village that it was not on most maps. We had such limited contact before driving through the town looking for the house that would be our home and the church that would be my life. I can still remember the minutes slowly unfold as I took it all in. I suspect my wife feels the same way. We had our children there and it has remained home in a way very different from everywhere else we lived. It grew into us. The area and the people became part of us. I still tear up remembering Shirley Selzner and Pauline Moscato and Bob and Betty Knapp, and, most of all, Mary Schellhorn (just to name a few). They are all gone but they live in my memories just as they live before the Lord.
The 32 years I spent as Senior Pastor of Grace in Clarksville, Tennessee, are the longest tenure of my life -- longer than I spent with my parents in the homes in which I grew up. For good or ill, the years live in me and have defined me so that my biggest struggle in retirement is trying to figure out who I am if I am not the Pastor of this congregation. Though it has been official only since January 19, it feels more like an extended vacation and I will be back at work tomorrow. You know what they say about tomorrow -- it is the day that never comes. So many of the folks who welcomed us 32 years ago are no longer with us but await us on another shore. Those who were my age or younger are trying to figure out retirement like me. Those whom I baptized and confirmed are married and working on the mystery called parenthood. My grandchildren are about the ages of my two youngest when we moved here. It all lives on in my mind and heart even though the faces on Sunday morning have changed.
I realize it is not the same for the congregations. I know Sayville through their now Pastor Brian Noak and the parish has moved on even though it is frozen in time in my memory. My successor in Cairo has served there only a few years less than I served in Clarksville and most of those who remember me are retired or tired or resting in the arms of their Lord. The parish that lives in my memory is not quite the same one that lives on there now. Though it is too soon to say this of Clarksville, I know it will be true. A generation or two will unfold who never knew me as their pastor but everyone of those 32 years is preserved in my heart and mind and will not depart from me until I depart. I suspect someone will read this and say how sad. I guess it is in some ways but it is also the march of time that waits for no man. Time like and ever rolling stream moves on, wearing down the stones and carrying its life to its end so that the future is different from the past. I am grateful that Sayville, Cairo, and Clarksville continue to live in me even though I know these congregations have or will get over me. Until the memories fade away, I rejoice amid the days -- for better or worse. They are precious to me now even more than then.
1 comment:
Interesting how places and people mark our memories, especially as we look back. I am familiar with upstate New York, as I have been living north of Albany for 10 years. My wife and I came from Suffolk County, Long Island, where we married, raised our family, and spent most of our lives. The area of Sayville, which you mentioned, is very familiar as well. But we also lived for 7 years in Tucson, Arizona. Seems like in every place one lives, there are certain people we meet along the way who affect us more than others. Once they are gone, having passed away, we think about them fondly. I like to think about my parents, in-laws, and one sister, and many others, as being in the presence of the Lord now, as I write this. I believe these folks loved Jesus, were redeemed and saved, and were faithful to God and others in their lives here. Looking at it this way, I can feel joyful in their happiness and peace. Most suffered medical illnesses and pain during their lives, especially at the end of their days. Like each of us, they had their dreams and aspirations, struggles and trials, and gave their affections to us freely. Someday, we will meet them all again, and every tear will be wiped away. I think the reunion will be beyond description, second only to being the presence of Our Savior.
Soli Deo Gloria
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