Easter Monday is one of our staff holidays during the year. The church office is closed, and our staff have an opportunity to rest and reflect on the experiences of Holy Week. I cherish this time to breathe deeply and exhale. To slowly sip bold coffee in the morning—a day with no agenda. Easter Mondays are a true gift. This one was extra-special as I used the circular saw my dad gave me. Maybe you’ve had such a moment . . .  

This year was late for Easter and the weather was nicely warm. Monday was a great day to do some long-overdue fence repairs in our backyard—a must, now that we have a new puppy (Toby the cockapoo). The repair list included replacing some broken pickets and shoring up several sections misaligned by tree roots. 

If you’ve known me for a while or heard me talk about my abilities, you will know that I am not the handiest of men. I love working in the yard, growing plants, and taking care of trees. But my brother got most of the handyman genes. I have to work really hard at doing repairs and carpentry. Plumbing and electrical? Honey, call the professionals! 

But this Easter Monday, I dusted off my Black & Decker Workmate bench and set up shop. I charged up my cordless drill and plugged in the circular saw. That’s when the memories came. You see, my dad gave me my circular saw—a Craftsman, of course. I remember the huge box under the Christmas tree. It was a brand-new Craftsman! And just like Dad, he swapped it for my old one, which he continued to use. Over the years, whenever I needed help repairing something, Dad would help. Or, I could call him, and he would walk me through it. He loved helping with Isabella’s Pinewood Derby cars in Girl Scouts. (Yes, her GS leader made sure they did Pinewood Derby like the boys.) 

As you may know, my dad died of Covid-19 on July 30, 2020. This year will be five years. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. And when I heard the sound of the saw blade cutting into the fence slat and smelled the sawdust, I sensed Dad right there with me. This time, he felt like my helper, instead of the other way around. It wasn’t a sadness in the memories but a comforting presence… “Measure twice, cut once.” “Take your time and do it right the first time.” “Clean your tools so they are ready for next time.” 

At the end of the day, the fence was repaired, and the loose sections were shored up. But more importantly, the memories of my dad made the work worthwhile. I felt that he gave me confidence to do the job right. 

The Apostle Paul experienced the gift of memories as he wrote to the Philippian Christians: “I thank my God every time I remember you.” (Philippians 1:3) Perhaps you have a similar story of life-giving memories. Or perhaps my experience will encourage you in your own journey of life and faith. I’d love to hear from you and would welcome an opportunity to learn how you have experienced the gift of memories. 

In Christ’s care,