while they live.
This was a favourite saying of an old pastor of mine, the late Rev. Vernon Nelson. It came back to mind yestrday, as I was mulling over a title for this post.
Earlier that day, my Mum shared with me how deeply touched one of the Mothers of the Church (title of respect) from the church I grew up in, had been by a card I sent. How this Mother had actually appeared overcome as she said to Mum,
She remembered me.
I was touched, and thankful that I had finally followed through on sending her, and two others, a little note. As well as a bit saddened/challenged/concerned.
Because I wondered if the depth of her response, unconsciously revealed a sense of being forgotten. Not specifically by me, but my generation. Those now in our mid-late forties who she had known since donkey was a bwoy (a very long time/since babes in arms).
We’re grown, doing our own thing, living in different places, busy with our own lives… Is it possible that we have unintentionally been remiss in our remembering, valuing, and honouring of our Elders?
Could a quick call, a pop in to see them, a card in the post etc. show them that we still remember them, still care, still recognise and acknowledge their part in our history?
As we all stand on the shoulders of those who have ‘walked the walk’ before us. Either directly, or by virtue of their legacy; that which they have sown into the lives of others, who in turn have sown into the lives of ourselves.
So maybe have a think about someone who you can give the roses to today. Don’t wait, as Rev. Nelson used to say, until they are in the ground, and then we all bring flowers. Let them see and experience the beauty of them now.