this weekend is full of memories.  there is something about Memorial day weekend that seems to cause moments of more depth, of more story than other weekends.  maybe it’s that this weekend heralds the soon arriving summer, or that it is on this weekend we pause and honestly remember.  we remember those who fought and those who died, protecting the liberties and freedoms we take so often for granted.

this weekend brings memories of happy times.  of camp fires, smores, trips to the lake.  and it also brings with it memories that are wholly different.  memories not of what did happen, but of what didnt.

memories, seem to be the theme, the subject, the story that is being told right now.  i’ve caught myself more this weekend then i have in a long time, remembering.  thinking back.  and in some ways, looking forward.

thinking back to a time many years ago when life seemed simpler.  when friends were closer and when joy was easier.  when following this path, when writing this story was easier than it is now.

do i regret the decisions i’ve made between then and now?  some of them, yes, absolutely.  i think if we’re honest, we would all say we have things we wish we’d done and didnt, or that we did, and would give our right arm to have never done.  we’ve all hungered after grace, after forgiveness, even if we didnt know it was what we needed.  our stories, if they share any common thread, is that we all made mistakes, we all failed at something.  that our memories, our stories of times past aren’t all full of golden moments.  that there are dark times in our past, times we wished we could forget.

if anything though, it’s remembering those times, those times that remind us of old scars, memories that still need effort to push beyond, its in those memories that we find the tenacity, the desire, the will, drive and passion to make new memories.  its in remembering those who’ve died for our freedoms that we remember we are free.  it’s in stopping and letting the memory wash over us that we realize how far we’ve come, how the scars have healed, and in some cases, how far we have to go.

it’s in remembering, that we see our story that has been written.  and it’s in remembering, that we see how many blank pages are yet to be written in.

this moment, right now, is a blank page.  and how i chose to use it, the words i chose to write on it, are done so with indelible ink.  once written, they will never be erased.

and my heart aches, in a good way.  for the challenge, for the calling that i hear.  to make these next pages count.  to show those i love, that they’re loved.  to love unconditionally, without fear.  to learn what being a son means, and in the process, to discover what it means to be a man.

all we have, all we’re ever truly given, is a blank page and a pen.  and the whispered call of the One we call Father, to follow His leading.

so as you sit, as i sit, on this day of Memorial, we should do just that.  remember.  remember where we’ve come from, and remember those who sacrificed their all in defense of freedom.  of the freedom for us to write our own stories.  and may we also look forward, to the blank pages.

may we pick up our pens, and write our stories.  and may our stories, be worth telling.

Future of Forestry – Close Your Eyes