Remember When...?

My roommate in college liked to tell stories. In person, in writing, any way that she could find. Somewhere along the way, she introduced a strange phrase into her story telling: "Remember when?" This phrase, of course, makes sense when referring to a shared memory in the past, but she used it for the present. 

For example:

As we were standing in line in the cafeteria: "Remember when we had to stand in line for eight years to get our food?"

(Oh...she also liked to speak in hyperbole, especially making use of the number eight.)

As we were driving around Chicago: "Remember when we totally got lost in Chicago? Remember when we thought we were going to Chinatown, but we ended up here instead?"

You get the idea.

I'm not sure why she started doing that in the first place, but it had a long-term effect on me. It reminded me that every experience we have now can be a great story in the future. And the more ridiculous or difficult the experience, the better the story.

Well, that brings me to my story today.

Remember when my kid pooped his diaper so bad during music practice before church that the poop actually ran down his pants, past his shoes, and onto the floor? And then he walked the entire length of the church, leaving a trail of poop as he went? And then we didn't have any extra clothes with us because he had worn them the day before, so we had to borrow clothes from the one-year-old who lives next door to the church? And then I had to spend fifteen minutes bent over him, kneeling on the floor, cleaning off first his shoes, then his socks, then his pants, then his onesie, then his diaper, then his bottom? Remember when I was mortified by this whole situation--from not having extra clothes for him to the poop down the main aisle of the church to the people who had to wash their shoes off after they stepped in it?

(Seriously. Why do the worst poop stories always seem to happen in church?)

But then one of the men, after cleaning poop off of his shoes said something that made me feel a thousand times better.

He said, "Someday in twenty years when your kid is leading music, one of us is going to say afterwards, 'I remember when he was just a little guy. I remember the Sunday that he left a trail of poop down the middle of the sanctuary.' And he will be mortified."

Remember when the worst stories now are the best stories later? Remember when the support of a community can make all the difference in the world?

The whole situation was pretty overwhelming in my current eight-months-pregnant state, and I was still flustered when I got up to start the service. So much so that I almost started crying when I got to the third verse of the opening Psalm: "Have mercy on us, O Lord, have mercy upon us, for we have had more than enough of contempt." (Psalm 123:3) (In my head, I replaced the word "contempt" with the word "poop.")

But as I read, I looked out at the members of our congregation, and I thanked God for them. For people who are also praying for mercy, who have also had enough of whatever is overwhelming them. For people who are supporting one another through difficult circumstances. For people whose hard days now will make for great stories later. And for the day twenty years down the road when we will still be sharing those stories, saying, "Remember when...?"