The Cinco de Meyer came together for the Memorial Day weekend. Our five grandsons… we have no granddaughters, no civilizing influence… the five boys were together and were boys. Drew and Jacob, the DC cousins, spent a day floating on the Huzzah creek, skipping stones, and catching crawdads. When they got together with the St. Louis cousins, it was play and roughhousing. Christian, going into his junior year, let the others gang up on him. Connor, a freshman, masterminded hiding places when the Cinco was playing hide-and-go seek. Nicholas, the youngest, was all in, but clowning around whenever a picture was taken. Nick, I know I owe you a ride in the milk truck. And how about this, no iPads when they could play together!
I envy their youth and energy. “It is the evening of the day,” sang the Rolling Stones. “I sit and watch the children play / Smiling faces I can see / But not for me / I sit and watch / As tears go by.” It’s a catchy melody but a sad song, “my riches can’t buy everything.” Can’t buy contentment, can’t buy happiness. Lonely, left with tears. That’s their song but not my takeaway from the weekend. “God sets the solitary in families. Blessed be God!” (Psalm 68:6, 35).
Sunday morning the Cinco de Meyer, parents, and grandparents went to church. I can’t describe my feeling when we all were together at the communion rail, older ones receiving the sacrament, younger ones being blessed. When I hear talk in my faith tradition about the sacraments, forgiveness is always stressed. That’s true, biblical, but the sacraments also have a forward look. They motivate us to anticipate the future. Those who kneel at the communion rail will one day be together for the unending, joyous feast of heaven. Then the Christ, unseen now but present with His body and blood, will be seen and, as the hymn puts it, “and perfect love and friendship reign through all eternity.”
For us who draw from the strengths of faith, there is nothing sad about the evening of the day. Sure, I wish I could replace ibuprofen with running, tumbling, and roughhousing, but God’s promises continue to renew our youth, leading us to a glorious future. To close with a line from another old song, from Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, “Teach your children well.”
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