When on my aching, burdened heart
My sins lie heavily,
My pardon speak, new peace impart,
In love remember me. – T. Haweis.
“In love remember me.” On NPR the other day, I listened briefly to a show where the panel were talking about writing obituaries. The panel seemed more enamored with talking about funny or ridiculous obits than what many families find to be a heart wrenching task. But, it caused me to wonder not just about how people want to be remembered when they leave this world, but how we want to be remembered in different scenarios.
We privately ask, “I wonder what they thought of me” when we leave a party of new people; when we leave a job interview; when we move to a new town, job, church, or school.” There are many examples. And we can ask nothing greater than “In love remember me.”
But I think our poet has something else in mind. He asks of God to forgive and that God grant him peace and “in love remember” him.” He is talking about that wonderful forgiveness we receive when we open our soul to God and he pours his love into it, ‘til our conscience no longer torments us, ‘til the weight of responsibility ceases to be oppressive, and until we know no matter how great our sins they cannot keep us away from God.
I’d also suggest that we make the same request to ourselves. When we are depressed, feel unworthy, and unforgiven, say a little prayer to yourself. Say, “In love remember me.”
My mother asked that I write my father’s obit a few months before he passed away. I did, she read it, made a few changes and my brothers did the same. Then, we were ready.
Webb,
What a beautiful posting… -And synchronicity being what it is, I had just this morning read the following poem from Rumi, titled “The Oldest Thirst There Is.”
Give us the gladness that connects
with the Friend, a taste of the quick.
You that make a cypress strong
and jasmine jasmine.
Give us the inner listening
that is a way in itself
and the oldest thirst there is.
Do not measure it out in a cup.
I am a fish. You are the moon.
You cannot touch me, but your light
fills the ocean where I live.
Tom