For Wilshire Baptist Church
During the big events on Sunday that marked the end of George Mason’s pastorate at Wilshire, two other little events reminded me of the precious nature of memories of those who have helped shape our lives.
The first little event actually began a few days earlier when Wilshire friend Bill Jones wrote on Facebook about the passing of Len Dawson, the former hall-of-fame quarterback of his hometown Kansas City Chiefs. Bill told how Dawson was one of his three boyhood sports heroes, how he followed him closely throughout his career, and even had some in-person encounters with Dawson.
As I read that, I recalled that I had a Len Dawson trading card in a small stack stashed away in my desk drawer. It’s a relic of my own childhood when I bought the cards that were packaged with bubblegum. In the past year I gave all my baseball cards to the son of a friend who is a true fan and follower of baseball. I kept the smaller stack of football cards because that’s more my game, especially the Cowboys from the 1970s.
I found the Len Dawson card and stuck it in my shirt pocket on Sunday morning in expectation of seeing Bill in our Epiphany class. I did see Bill, but it was on the stairs as he was going up and I was going down to greet George at the reception. In the spur of the moment, I shoved the card into Bill’s hand without saying a word and kept walking.
A couple of days later, I sent Bill an email and apologized if I “startled” him with by brusque delivery, but Bill, always the gentleman, said: “That’s quite all right, Jeff. Any feeling of being ‘startled’ was quickly overcome by elation! Thanks so much . . . I appreciate it! I showed it off to Travis (Bill’s son) today.”
The second little event came after the worship service celebrating George and his ministry. We were chatting with folks during the organ postlude when Linda Garner caught my attention from several rows away. She pointed to the hymnal in her hand and opened it to the front cover. I leaned forward and saw the book plaque that said I had dedicated the hymnal in memory of Debra, my first wife.
I have a habit in church of opening the hymnal wherever I sit to see the dedication inside. It’s an interesting glance at the ties that bind our congregation. I found Debra’s hymnal that way by chance some years ago but then I never saw it again. Even if I was sitting in that vicinity, I’d open the hymnal in front of me and find it was dedicated to someone else. In a way it was like a piece of my memory had been lost, but now Linda had helped me find it again. Like Bill’s reaction to the Len Dawson card, I was elated.
What is it about pieces of paper with names printed on them that strokes our memories and makes us feel close to people and times we miss? I don’t know for sure, but I have lots of them – greeting cards, post cards, letters, signed books – and it’s hard to let go. To do so feels like I’m not just letting go of a memory; I’m letting go of the person too. If I give away a Len Dawson card, I’m at least passing the memory on to someone else for them to preserve.
We learned during George’s celebration on Sunday that a collection of sermons from his 33 years as our pastor will be published in a book. I’ll want a copy of it when it’s available and I’ll want George to sign it. The book and his signature will add to the memories of his years with us. That’ll be a keeper for sure.