So Remember That One Time?

There's something about the holiday season that always makes me a bit nostalgic ... there's something that sends my mind and heart for more than a few strolls down memory lane when the date on the calendar signals that Thanksgiving is just around the corner. Now that I think about it, I think my memory journey actually begins more around Halloween than mid-November. A couple of days before the trick or treaters come knocking, my mind is filled with memories of times in my youth when I ... well, uh ... when I ... uh ... wait a minute ... is there a statute of limitations on egging houses, toilet-papering trees and smashing pumpkins? Real pumpkins, by the way ... not the band. Memories of my own three kiddos dressed in their costumes, racing from door to door in our former neighborhood on the hunt for more candy than they could or should eat in a lifetime. Memories of my mom reluctantly tossing candy into the Halloween bags of my friends, and yes, I do mean reluctantly in the truest sense of the word. Yep, it's that day at the end of October that starts the memory machine churning inside of me ... a machine that kicks into overdrive with the arrival of Thanksgiving and hangs around until the new year sufficiently and appropriately makes its debut.

Memories have evolved into somewhat of an enigma to me in recent years ... puzzling, baffling, mysterious creatures that they are. There are times when I'm not at all surprised by my sudden recollections of various people, events or circumstances, while at other times I cannot begin to understand the why behind the arrival of those particular memories. There are times when I'm simply unable to attribute the unexpected entrance of certain memories into my consciousness to a specific time of year, season or ... well ... to anything really, while at other times I know exactly why they come roaring like a mighty lion into the deepest part of my being. Perhaps it's an age-related quandary ... the enigma that now defines so many of my memories ... or perhaps it is the maturation of wisdom and discernment that comes (or that should come anyway) with growing older. Whichever it may be, I find myself more and more perplexed with each passing day by the entire concept of the seemingly precise, almost fated, perhaps even predestined appearances of memories.

So, tell me ... do you remember that one time? I certainly do, friends ... I certainly remember that one time. That one time I lost someone I loved. That one time I received an unexpected gift. That one time I helped someone I didn't know. That one time I spoke too harshly. That one time I loved unconditionally. That one time I listened to someone who was hurting. That one time I cried for what felt like forever. That one time I believed in someone. That one time I trusted. That one time I spoke up for what's right. That one time ... that one time I put the needs of others ahead of my own ... that one time ... that one time I cared enough to take the time to listen ... that one time ... that one time I followed my heart ... that one time ... that one time ... that one time.

My hope, my prayer, my deepest desire is that I remember not just that one time, but that I remember all the times ... that I remember every single time ... the easy times, the hard times ... the great times, the not great times ... the times of love, the times of hate. I don't want to remember that one time, friends ... I want to remember all the times.

"Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it." --- L.M. Montgomery