Good Monday morning...

… and if I am honest about it, Labor Day has evolved from the last hurrah of summer vacation (always with a potluck at my parents’ friends’ house in Ohio) to a day off from my second job.  I remember fondly the baseball (usually wiffle or tennis ball) games in their backyard with pauses for some of the most plentiful foods laid out in the garage… buckets of fried chicken and desserts beyond belief… and sides, yes there were sides, but I was particularly fond of the chicken and the desserts.  I never knew what the adults did all day because I was always playing whatever game all the boys in the group were playing.  They were good days!

Memories have evolved for me, too.  I haven’t thought about those backyard baseball games in many, many years, but I have not missed a single day of remembering the most important people in my life.  My dad was always at those parties, and while I don’t recall thinking much about what he was doing while I was giving everything I had to winning a ballgame, I have thought of him daily for the past several years, since he died in 1986.  My memories often include the better qualities of his life, like his melancholy and his devotion to helping some of the older relatives who were unable to do much for themselves.  Occasionally, I will remember his hot temper, especially when mine is near to boiling point!

Another person I think of quite frequently is my friend Bill.  He and his wife, Mary, became the best of friends to Lisa and me when we moved to Canyon Lake.  Bill and Mary are both in heaven, now.  And like my dad, I think of Bill every day, too.  Living where we live, every time I ascend the stairs from our condo to the parking lot, I remember meeting Bill in the parking lot at 6 am for our morning walk.  It had become such a habit that I will always remember it as one of the healthiest friendships I’ve ever had.  Now I think of his kids, and how hard these past couple of years have been for them, losing both parents.  I wish I were closer to them to check on how they are doing.

I know that Labor Day is not Memorial Day.  But I know that these memories of loved ones have no calendar, either.  The longer I go without the physical presence of my dad and my friend, the more I think of them with fondness.  I hope that the qualities of each of these men and their living memories will inspire me to be more like them… helping the people in my life who are no longer able to help themselves, like my dad, and being an ambassador for Christ, like my friend Bill.

For His glory,

Pastor Mike