This year I am challenging myself to remember and write about 52 things. I have called it a Remember52 challenge in my mind and on my to-do lists. I’m choosing #remember52 for myself because I spend so much time wondering what to write about that I just don’t. And being in a season of increasing significant transition (and hopefully self-discovery), remembering seems just write.
I don’t hold to many possessions too tightly. We’ve moved too many times for that. But this is something I have treasured for myself at least since we got married, maybe earlier, I don’t know. It is shocking to me how this little naive wish has yet to find a peaceful resolution. My first Remember52 coincides with a tense global climate with someone being killed, some bombs being sent in retaliation, an airliner ‘accidentally’ being shot down.
As my daughter prepared for high school finals, I remember studying for my high school midterms with Wanda and her family as they heard that her cousin was to be deployed. I remember friends losing friends and family. I remember trying to get off of Long Island on 9/11 with a 2yo Caleb and a not yet pronounced but almost certain Anna within.
But of this framed piece, I remember sitting around a warm evening meal, my family holding hands. God is great, God is good, let us thank God for this food. Or some other child’s dinner prayer. We never said PS. But we always added “and please help there be peace in the Middle East”. Amen.
I didn’t know where or what the Middle East were. I probably didn’t even know East, yet. If I’m honest, I still have very little grasp of what, where, or who the Middle East are. But we prayed every night, for peace. And we still are. In fact, I’m guessing I have a pretty narrow understanding of what, where, and who Peace is, how it is brought.
Is peace captured in one of the first essays of a second grader – a midyear version of ‘what I did this summer’? I remember struggling with this assignment because I knew that it wasn’t quite right to wish for material things for myself. I didn’t want to let on that I really wanted a particular doll or book or some other toy (though I remember that that was the year I got a beautiful full series box set of Little House on the Prairie books that I still have). I remember where I sat – in a row where I could stare out the window. I remember Ms. Heal read Charlotte’s Web out loud to us that year – and she did it just right. I remember my classroom was across the hall from my first grade classroom at Ella P. Burr Elementary School. Ms. Fogg was my first grade teacher. It was her mother who penned the calligraphy piece.
All of our My Wish essays were hung in the hall. Was there a parents night or some other open house? Who were the hallway bulletin boards decorated for? They were up too high for me to see and read. Maybe elementary teachers decorate some bulletin boards to encourage and amuse themselves and each other.
I had no idea that weather patterns wouldn’t cease fighting and war. I knew that when it rained or snowed in my life, things stopped. We stayed home and were family. Sometimes treats were baked and served. It was quiet. Less interrupted than usual. Together.
Maybe I wasn’t wishing for weather patterns. Maybe I was wishing for peace.