Do This In Memory of Me
Started Saturday morning off with a trip to church and most of the time I am able to catch a couple of sentences that catapult me through the next week. I also enjoy the community of church and everyone singing and praying in unison. I better say that or there are about thirty-five nuns from the past who will be lined up to beat me with their ruler.
Yesterday the line that caught my attention was "Do this in memory of me." Of course they are the words of Jesus at the Last Supper, but yesterday they rang a true chord.
My brother Jim had been asking me all week long to help him make Italian sausage. It's a task that we've shared as a family since I was just a kid, but one that we hadn't yet attempted without the family chef. Of course we had the recipe and the know-how, but it wouldn't be easy by any means. Believing that Jim didn't have anyone to help, I made the drive, and Bruce on E-Street radio got me there. Sad, but determined to do it in memory.
To my delight, Jim wasn't working alone. Not only was my brother John there, but my father and my uncle all showed up. It wasn't the same, but we did laugh at one another quite a few times - and we stepped into our roles. John working the casings, Jim running the equipment and me weighing it and putting it into bags. We also ate about six pounds of it while we worked - and damn it's good.
Leaving there, we headed to my house for a long party of ping-pong, basketball, and adult beverages. The laughs just kept coming as the kids shot hoops with us, we chased each other around, and I wound up on my back after slipping in the grass chasing a rebound. I felt the tug on my right Achilles tendon, and before I got to my feet, I looked up at the darkening sky.
I could almost hear the laughter coming from above, and I knew that the entire day was carried by the message heard in church.
Yesterday the line that caught my attention was "Do this in memory of me." Of course they are the words of Jesus at the Last Supper, but yesterday they rang a true chord.
My brother Jim had been asking me all week long to help him make Italian sausage. It's a task that we've shared as a family since I was just a kid, but one that we hadn't yet attempted without the family chef. Of course we had the recipe and the know-how, but it wouldn't be easy by any means. Believing that Jim didn't have anyone to help, I made the drive, and Bruce on E-Street radio got me there. Sad, but determined to do it in memory.
To my delight, Jim wasn't working alone. Not only was my brother John there, but my father and my uncle all showed up. It wasn't the same, but we did laugh at one another quite a few times - and we stepped into our roles. John working the casings, Jim running the equipment and me weighing it and putting it into bags. We also ate about six pounds of it while we worked - and damn it's good.
Leaving there, we headed to my house for a long party of ping-pong, basketball, and adult beverages. The laughs just kept coming as the kids shot hoops with us, we chased each other around, and I wound up on my back after slipping in the grass chasing a rebound. I felt the tug on my right Achilles tendon, and before I got to my feet, I looked up at the darkening sky.
I could almost hear the laughter coming from above, and I knew that the entire day was carried by the message heard in church.
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Love you.