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Christmases Yet to Be (Vol. 4, No. 44) Making mental notes used to be a productive exercise for me. “Take a mental note: pick-up a carton of milk on the way home.” The rule was, “Note once made, note then obeyed.” Slowly my batting average on actually following through on mental notes has begun to dip. Now, it’s to the point that That’s why people who print calendars and personal time management notebooks are rich. Because sooner or later we figure out that we have to put all those notes somewhere that we can find them. So we put them on our calendars or our personal digital assistants – or even our cell phones or watches. I’m thinking that we’ll soon have the option to have digital chips injected into our brains where we can record things we need to remember. And I guess we’ll be back to “mental notes” again. I’ll welcome that time, especially during the winter holidays. It seems that around Christmas, I make a lot of the old-fashioned mental notes. And it’s not that I don’t recall them. I do. Usually about 365 days later when I’m re-entering the same mental note. With all the after-Christmas sales going on right now, you’d think something like “start Christmas shopping before December 15” would just stick right there in the front of your mind. I actually made some new mental notes this year. Like “don’t get sick at Christmas-time.” And “sprinkle rock salt on the walk before the ice is two inches thick.” I’ll probably forget both of those. Particularly, the rock salt thing since I had the thought 2 days ago when the temperature was in the teens in West Texas and where today it will be in the 60s. But there is one that won’t slip past me: “Listen for familiar voices during special times.” We were just a few minutes late to church on the Sunday after Christmas and we slipped into seats a little closer to the back. With my mom, dad, and aunt as guests, we took a few moments to get settled and I really didn’t look to the front to see who was participating in worship. Then, as the first song began, I heard a familiar voice blending with the worship team. “Ryan!” I thought. Sure enough, there he was. Local boy who had made good. The son of dear friends who just graduated from university and moved two states away to be the worship minister for another great church. A young man who had blessed us with his good spirit and fine talent. Back to visit family – including all of us at church. I thought again, “What a welcome sound to hear his voice.” After service, when Nancy and I made our way to the front to see him, we were surprised to hear the voices of other young friends who were home for the holidays. Debi and Laura and Lauren and John. And on the way to the parking lot, there was Matthew. Familiar voices from the past, blending in a special reunion of joy. As we visited with friends and family throughout the day, I heard more voices. Some that weren’t even physically there. I’ve been hearing Ileta and my grandparents for several years. And this year, I could hear Jack and Ronny and Elsie. I could hear them in the voices of their loved ones. And the same warm feeling that welled up inside when I heard Ryan carrying the bass part washed over me as I thought about how much of my life has been shaped by those voices that continue to ring in my memory. In Christmases yet to be, I will hear familiar voices – both present and past. And while each one is distinct, all will blend to form the unmistakable tone of He who is so good – the One who gave us voices to share and promises of reunion.
Shine On!
copyright 2004 Joe L. Cope
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