Contemplating on Psalm 78

I find myself today sitting here in the town I grew up in – in the rhythm of rest and contemplation -in the place that shaped and molded me, and impacted so much of my life.  Taking a few days here with my parents, spending time with them, before heading out for my week of quiet and solitude.  As they grow older (as do I) I cannot help but think again of the foundation and question of many of my prayers on my sabbatical: ‘does anyone ever really enjoy life while they live it, every , every minute’.  Find myself wanting to be truly thankful and enjoy every minute we have together as we grow older, realizing we do not know how many more such moments we may have together.  And thus, enjoy and live every moment while we live it. 

Began the morning reading and thinking about Psalm 78, a Psalm that calls God’s people to remember God’s faithfulness, and all that He has brought them through – calling them to worship God in the midst of this, recalling how faithful He has been.

 Spent the early part of the morning having breakfast with my parents and their Saturday morning breakfast club at the local hotel.  Realized the passing of the years as I sat with these people – as I viewed their declining health and aging bodies, remembering the times of my growing up years and the impact these individuals had in my life as they were involved in the church I grew up in.  Then spent a chunk of the morning taking my morning jog – around the town and the places that were significant to me growing up.  Past the railway tracks and the trails we used to ride our dirt bikes on and the open patches of grass that were home to untold games of grass hockey (especially now as the playoffs are in full swing).  Past the cemetery where numerous of my relatives are buried, people who were so special to me as I grew up in this town.  Running past a cemetery is always a good place to reflect on our own immortality, and a time to ask the question if we are prepared to die – understanding that we only live well, when we know how to die well.

 The route took me past the schools I attended as a young boy, homes of my boyhood friends recalling  the  times we spent together.  Past the places of my first employment (working for our local town crew, and later a local gas station), and the ball diamonds, football, and soccer fields where I enjoyed these sports as a young boy.  Of course that included running by what remains of the arena that was used when I grew up – the arena of my greatest athletic joy – playing on a midget  team that won the provincial championships when I was in High School.  Brought a smile to my face thinking of that old dilapidated  building where probably 1,000 people from my town watched us win that game.   And close to some of these, the photography studio where Monica and I had our wedding pictures taken almost 22 years ago.

 Then I ran by the church I grew up in and recalled with such fondness the years growing up there as a young boy and the significance of that community in my life.  And though like God’s people have always wondered from Him at times, myself being no different, it was the early years in that faith community that shaped and molded my faith and taught me about the worship of God and His kindness in sending His Son to save us – that which is now the foundation of my life.

Oh, the memories as I ran by the little house where my Grandma grew up, recalling the many meals I ate in that tiny house, and the memories of me and my 30+ cousins running around that yard.  Took a turn down the street that I spent the first 12 years of my life, and recalled with fondness the friends that lived in each of those houses and the fun we had as young boys.  Recalling the untold hours we spent playing ‘cops & robbers’; kick the can and hours of road hockey games – games that could last so long I remembered the day I came home with frost bite on my feet because I just needed to stay out till the game was won.  And to think of the streets we drove down with trucks full of crab apples as young teens, engaging in crab apple wars (one of the popular activities for me and my friends growing up).  Oh those seem like distant memories in our culture of video games (which did not exist then) and our world of every game and sport being so highly organized.  And filled with that was recalling the pain and fear I encountered on our street, when a young girl was brutally murdered a few houses from where I lived when I was a 10 year old boy.

 It was hard to not to think of the many great times I had growing up in this town, along with recalling some of the stupid choices I made as a young boy – which caused a fair bit of gratitude this morning that God was faithful and I am still here in spite of all that, and thankful for the family and community that God allowed me to grow up in.

 So as I thought about Psalm 78, I was filled with my own recollections of God’s faithfulness to His covenant in my life.  As I look back and recalled all that God has brought me through in my almost 50 years of life, the times and events that have molded and shaped me – it was hard to not think of Psalm 78 and my own reflections of the wonder of the God we worship and His goodness in our lives.