Remembering

Well, my flat tire remained fixed, praise God, as I prepared to depart from my brief two-day vacation in Mount Pleasant, near Charleston. However, my rear window vents,  the 12v jack in the car which powers my GPS, and the radio all stopped working. (A three hour drive home with just my thoughts, no radio, seems much longer than three hours.) I did try to picture the dolphins, the manatees, the island of roosting pelicans, the rolling sea, the peaceful up-creek path amongst the estuary reeds....Nonetheless, the memories from my two days of kayaking on Shem Creek were already fading. What was the use of living moments of joy, if they were only forgotten within hours? I was very sad to leave my little sojourn on Shem Creek. I'd painted one little scene from my balcony (posted here.) The car repair saga ate up my hoped for painting time, but it was nice to have time to do at least this one.

Since I was right next door to Charleston, I stopped there after packing my suitcase and woefully checking out of my paradise hotel. My plan was to have lunch in Charleston, and then wander the lovely city I know so well before driving home. My sons were both in the Charlotte Math Club in their middle/high school years, and every year for about ten years, we had math meets in Charleston. While they were competing, I wandered the city. Now, I retraced my steps from so many years ago. If it had been a tad cooler than 112 degree heat index, I would have enjoyed it more.

 I got pretty good at taking selfies with Charleston sights in the background. I remembered all of it, and each building and park brought back memories of fun things we had done with our children.

Despite dangerous temperatures, I forced myself through the wilting stage to revisit the sights that were so dear to me. Memories flooded back from the years of so many adventures with my young children.

Yet here I was, old and grey, and dying of heat stroke, alone...The distant echoes of their footsteps accompanied me, but how I wished they were with me in reality.

I had kayaked for three hours in the morning before checking out of the hotel. I went upstream on Shem Creek, and passed a sign that said, "You are responsible for your own wake."
Now of course, that sign was for boaters, urging them to be respectful of their speed in the  narrow creek so their wake would not erode homeowners banks. However, I thought of the message of the sign in a different light.

I am responsible for my own wake. What others will say or feel as I lie dead and cold is my responsibility. Will they mourn my passing...or cheer it? I am not sure.

I wandered the streets of Charleston reliving the past. I remembered how my daughter, Asherel, at age 7 accompanying us on a Math Meet guessed correctly the number of candy pieces in a jar, and won a huge jar of candy. Technically, the contest was for the high school students, but they awarded her the candy anyway since her guess was spot-on. And at the end of the meet, all the kids would gather in Battery Park by the water. Asherel used to climb on the pile of cannonballs, and sit on the cannon that lined the park. I walked in the shade of Battery Park, remembering.

I had no radio, like I said, for the three hour drive home. Strangely, I heard voices...like the radio was working but with the volume turned way down. The voices murmured of a past I knew had been beautiful at times. Would it be remembered, as I remembered it? Would the words I had spoken so full of hope and love and God become dust, blown away by the winds of a new day?

Would they fade like the scenes from my brief trip to Shem Creek, and disintegrate in the tomb of time? As I drove, radio mute but voices from the past whispering, I prayed God would bring all the lovely moments to remembrance.
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John 14:26 

But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.