I Remember

Memories haunt me. Sometimes they keep their distance; at others they are painfully close. Do not misunderstand me. I do not have a good memory-it is quite poor compared to most people, I am sure. Yet, when I hear Dare You to Move by Switchfoot, I go back to February, 2004, sitting on the railing of my cabin deck with two of my six roommates. As I sit in traffic waiting for a red light to turn green, I am swept back to sitting on a ferry, laughing with friends and making innocent mischief to pass the time. The memories of my past year are beautifully bittersweet, and to dwell on them is only to prolong the agony of a time gone and people I can no longer reach. Still I cannot resist this painful pleasure, and though I feel the bitterness of wishing for the past-it is sweet to remember the blessings.

I remember the big, rusty, noisy ferry that bore us to our beloved Thetis Island. I remember the ferry employees, who I was convinced had the dullest job in the world, and the seating area which was always too hot unless it was winter, of course, then it was far too cold. No matter what the weather, I almost always found myself leaning over the railing, mindlessly watching the water go by. Occasionally, a thought along the lines of, “I wonder how deep the ocean is here” interrupted my blissful silence, but thankfully these were rare moments. I remember the rumble of the engines beneath my feet, the gentle rolling and crashing as the big boat lurched over the occasional swell. I remember games of hackey sack, the fun heightened by the possibility off that one fated kick which would send the ball of bean-filled fabric over the side and into the sea. I remember how I felt so much at home when the rolling green lawns of Capernwray came into view. That white Tudor mansion, the cabins tucked away into the woods, and the fine mist over the cow pastures is still a perfect picture of paradise in and yet away from, this world.

I remember six perfectly imperfect roommates with different personalities, interests, and dreams but only one purpose: to love God and love others. I remember how much each one of them meant to me, and how badly I wanted to show that I loved them. I remember rules (and laws) broken, 10:30 curfews stretched till one, and long conversations about everything from life and love to trucks and hot tubs. I remember wrestling matches, poker games, the disgusting noises Jeremy makes when he wakes up, and how Keith got up at 7:25 and still managed to attend 7:30 breakfast, somehow able to shower, dress, and take a nap along the way. I remember fifty dollars that bought an old, red, riding lawn mower which allowed us to spend countless hours disturbing the peace, damaging property, and endangering our own lives. I remember longboarding until dark and making ‘just one more run’ down the hill, and how it resulted in a night at the hospital doting over my roomate’s separated shoulder and stitched face. I remember a toilet which refused to work properly, a dysfunctional shower, and a sink which served as a hand-washing-toothpaste-spitting-shaving-kitchen-cooking-macaroni-mayhem facility. I remember a weathere3d, green chair which cost only eight dollars at a flea market. We were so proud of our green chair, though if anyone kept count, they would find it held many more piles of clothes over the year then it did bodies.

I remember the truth of Christ proclaimed every day. I remember nights spent alone with God, struggling to hear Him through the walls I had built. I recall trying to stamp out His promise of peace and rest, while at the same time desiring it above all else. I remember His faithfulness in the midst of my faithlessness. I remember playing football in the rain, lifting weights in a barn, listening to Coldplay during a storm, and the pride I felt when there was a coveted letter from home in my mailbox. I remember graduation. One by one our names were called, verses read and hands shaken. Joy mixed with tears as some left that night. I remember one last sunrise over the ocean, a blur of goodbyes, tears, hugs, and promises to write. I remember stepping onto that big, rusty, noisy ferry one last time. As we pulled away from the dock, I looked back at my beloved Thetis Island, beautiful Capernwray, home sweet home. Numbly I wished I could start it all over again, but it was finished. I wanted to meet my friends again for the first time, to gaze wonderingly into the face of Jesus as I first begin to really love Him. I wish for one more workday, one more night laughing at ourselves, and playing games too stupid to ever play again. I remember a year that is unforgettable and forever sealed in my mind and heart, people who have impacted me beyond imagination, and a God who worked despite me to bring me to Himself and show me how to love.