Over two decades ago, as a Lenten practice, I began penning meditations for my family and a select circle of friends. Little did I know that this humble endeavor would evolve into a journey of words and faith that would span thousands of posts and connect me with a global community.
Thanks to the technological ingenuity of my son, Walter, my musings found a wider audience on “The Hubbell Pew” blog. (I had never heard of a blog back then). Today, as I mark the 3000th post, I am filled with gratitude for the unwavering support and encouragement that have sustained this virtual space. I am also amazed at the number of posts and that I’ve done anything for over twenty years.
My readers have been more than mere consumers of content. They have been partners in this journey, contributing financially to ensure the blog’s longevity without the intrusion of advertisements. Their insightful comments, thought-provoking questions, and shared experiences have enriched my understanding of life, faith, and the world around us.
I am deeply humbled and eternally grateful for the community that has grown around The Hubbell Pew. Your presence has been a source of inspiration, comfort, and challenge. It is my sincere hope that my writings have offered you moments of reflection, a deeper connection to your faith, and a renewed sense of purpose.
Thank you for being a part of this journey.
With gratitude, Webb.
I celebrate today’s Pew with a republication of one meditation I posted long ago. My daughter Rebecca said it was her favorite. It was titled “Remember Me.” I reread and rewrote it today. I hope I didn’t make it worse. You can decide which one you like best.
First the original version:
Remember Me
We all on occasion try to make sense out of things that defy common sense. We search for insanity in the insane. We cy out “why” when there seems to be no why.
A while back I read when you remember someone you carry something of that person with you. Years later, that which you carry can help you summon something about that person back, even though miles and years have passed. Even after a person’s death, that portion we took with us enables us to still see the person, hear his voice, and speak to him in your heart.
From that person’s perspective he feels never entirely lost as long as he is remembered. We are consoled to know we are remembered and often it is part of why we are happy. Yet we also feel once we are forgotten, that part of us that was carried away is gone forever. So it seems when we search to make sense of insanity that we hear so often the cry, “Remember me.” It is a cry for something that was carried away and seems gone forever.
On this day of memories, I try to recall all the things I have carried away, so none are lost.
Now a revised version:
Echoes of the Past
We’ve all, at some point, grappled with the inexplicable. We’ve sought rationality in the irrational, questioned the unanswerable. And when faced with the incomprehensible, we cry out “why,” as if logic could ever fully explain the chaotic tapestry of life.
Years ago, I encountered a profound idea: when we remember someone, we carry a piece of them with us. Time and distance may separate us physically, but that fragment remains, a tangible connection to the past. Even after death, this carried portion allows us to revisit memories, hear echoes of their voices, and converse with them in our hearts.
From their perspective, it’s as if they’re never truly lost as long as they’re remembered. We find solace in knowing we’re not forgotten, and it often contributes to our sense of contentment. Yet, the fear of oblivion lingers. We worry that once we’re forgotten, the part of us carried away will vanish forever.
In the search for meaning amidst the chaotic, we often hear the cry, “Remember me.” It’s a plea for something that feels lost, a piece of oneself that seems to have drifted away.
On this day of reflection, I strive to recall all the fragments I’ve carried, ensuring none are lost to the passage of time.
Each reflection, 3000 of them, are also memories that “I carry with me, so none will be lost.” Thank you all! Webb.
Congratulations – much appreciated, loved and enjoyed. Thank you for doing this. Looking forward to 3000 more.
Thanks my friend.
Thank YOU, Webb! Reading your posts daily always inspires AND reconnects me to you!
Tom
Thanks Tom. Very much appreciated. Webb