And the Greatest of These

The doctor's visit got me to thinking, pondering a bit. You know, the appointment I wrote about Thursday the 7th. Musing about the shoulder some, but more about another topic altogether. After driving by our old home on Leflore Avenue, I shared with my sister the only memories I have of living there. Later, alone, I ran them through my mind once more and asked if there was any sense in those faded photographs of the brain or are they all just random echoes of recall that stuck in my memory without rhyme or reason.

To attempt an analyzation of these incidents, I decided first to write a short description of each one, and although I don't know their order-- which one was first-- I will rank them in the way I think they occurred. I will call them number one, number two, and . . . you get the picture.

Number one: Dad was playing with me on the sidewalk. The way I remember, it was on Mrs. Wells', our landlady's, walkway not ours. We, he, made a little bow and arrow out of tiny twigs and a short piece of string. We shot another little twig for an arrow.

Number two: Barry Tingle's sister pulled him across the street in a little red wagon and into Mrs. Well's driveway. There were some other people there, I think, but I only clearly remember her and Barry who was in diapers and couldn't have been but about a year old.

Number three: The huge black man who mowed the lawn cranked what I think was a Yazoo mower, and I ran like the wind. I wonder now how large he really was. Everything is big when you are little. I remember the yard as being giant. Two days ago when Carol and I drive my, I was struck by how small it actually is.

Number four: I sat beside Leflore Avenue and placed my right index finger on the pavement and waited for a car to run over it. Every time I tell this one, people ask "Why?" I don't know why, but if I had to guess, I bet Mom told me that if I touched that street a car would run over me.

Just writing this caused me to remember something else, or maybe I should say to be aware of something I don't remember. I have no sound stuck in my brains from that time, no voices, no birds chirping, nothing. Even the lawn mower incident is like a silent film as I watch it replayed between my ears. No doubt it was the noise that frightened me, but I can't recall that noise.

For the first time ever, I asked myself if these "brainshots" contained a message. Is there some meaning to the fact that I remember these and everything else is lost, or am I am overthinking all of this?  How could I know? To attempt an answer, I decided to tag the memories. By "tag" I mean apply a label, a summary, a word or phrase that wraps up each one. This is an old trick for studying the Bible I learned in seminary. Try it. You need a Bible without chapter titles and paragraph breaks. Then title the chapters you are studying using only one to three words. It makes you think and summarize, and you will be surprised how you begin to think new thoughts and gain an insight you never had before. At least that has been my experience with the technique.  I did that and here are the results.

For one the label is "love." There are a lot of ways love is displayed and possibly the least effective is with words although they are important also. For a young child, spending time in their world is the most efficacious way to show you really care. As a young dad, I learned early that the best way to get interaction with kids and cats is to lie down on the floor. The cats come around and the kids wind up on your chest. Dad got down on the sidewalk with me. That was my world: the sidewalk, the floor, the grass. Dad met me there and we did something so special I still remember it sixty years later. I have already said that I don't know which memory is the first, but I like to think this one is. I do know it is my first memory of my dad.

The tag for number two is "community." There were people there, people outside of my family. I only remember two of them, Barry and his sister. They were of a family but not mine. I know others were there also and that is why she pulled him across the street, to be with the other people. But I can't remember them. I do, however, remember a gathering and the gathering contained groups and the groups were of various ages.

Number three: "fear." That one was and is pretty simple. A lot of fear is hardwired into us for our own good. Much of it is learned later in life sometimes for good but often it is negative. On the negative side, it kills dreams, paralyzes people and separates family, friends, and groups. Over and over the Bible commands its heroes and us alike  to "Fear not." Faith and fear mix well about as well as oil and water. Fear, in fact, mixes well with little that is good.

And the fourth is "stupidity." There is no way to slice that apple of what I did that day beside Leflore Avenue as anything but stupid. I have done a lot-- stupid-- in life. In fact, much of my time for my first twenty years was occupied with seeing how outrageous and how unsmart I could be, how many rules I could smash, laws I could break. One of my friends and I used to ride around the Carroll County roads at night looking for cars to shoot. And we shot them and other things as well. In fact, the only things we didn't shoot with shotguns and .22 rifles were things that had not been invented yet. The Bible says, "Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction driveth it far from him" (Proverbs 22:15).

Now take a look at these stacked up close together: love, community, fear, and stupidity. Those are huge categories that form major building blocks of our lives, our society, our world. They also fall into a dichotomy when we put love and community together opposed to fear and stupidity. We find this dichotomy in the Bible over and over. Jesus spoke of "the straight gate and the narrow way" as opposed to "the wide gate and broad way." The Book of Proverbs uses the term "way" or "path" at least 73 times to describe how we live, the road our lives are on. 

We all walk one of these paths. For much of my younger life it was the way of the stupid stuff, the outrageous, the sinful. Now I am on a different path. That change of roads happened by the grace of God which arrested me and showed me the error of my ways. What about you? Which road are you on? Are you trying to walk two at the same time. Is there a stirring in your heart to change your road? "Today if you hear his voice, harden not your hearts as in the day of provocation" (Hebrews 3:15). And again the Word says, "in a time accepted and in the day of salvation have I succoured thee: behold now is the accepted time; behold now is the day of salvation" (2 Corinthians 6:2. If God't tugs at your heart to change paths, don't resist. Call upon Jesus to place your feet on another path, his path. He will make it happen, and you will never regret it.

I thought that last paragraph was the conclusion, but then I thought again, I thought this. One more time: love, community, fear, and stupid. "And the greatest of these is love" (1 Corinthians 13:13).