Nostalgia

And so we return it can we ever truly go back?  The smell of Curley's fries overtaking the pier; the sound of the boards rubbing together as people swiftly walk playing chicken with the tram car along the boardwalk; sitting at a traffic light for three cycles because making a right turn was impossible because all of the pedestrians crossing with and against the light...Each and every one of these brings back fond memories of a time that passed; time that was but now has expired. I have spent many hours, which I am sure if accumulated would transition into years, of people watching. I love to watch people interact, to see how people act when they do not thing anyone is watching.  For all intensive purposes, my life has become a sociological case study. Bombarded by advertisements, hustled by the local street vendor, emphatically arriving at the beach by 8 am and not leaving until the last life guard makes his way to the boards, rushing around only to wait for the most coveted booth at the most popular pizza dive, cramming the taste of the shore into a week of hectic rides, sandy suits and flashing lights is it any wonder why kids can be found crying and whining while parents walk with purpose all with an intensive look of frustration pasted  upon their face?  Funny, when I look back to my grandest memories of our family vacations I do not initially recall the times of frustration, of aggregation, of sheer exhaustion; rather, I remember the rides, the games, the food and, of course, the laughter and smiles. I think we all, at some point in our lives, attempt to recreate what once was; we go to the same shore points with our families, play the same games and eat the same foods yet that feeling we are attempting to recreate never come to fruition and for some, it never even come close. We can sit around and reminisce and remember the grand times and the smiles, the laughter will return but we cannot, nor should we try, to relive the glory day.  As Springsteen says, "Well time slips away and leaves you with nothing mister but boring stories of glory days"...we have a choice to live in the past or create new memories, new opportunities to share life with those around us, those we love and cherish.  Nostalgia can only take us so far until we have to get out, walk and create new paths, paths that may be over top of old ones or paths which break new ground completely.  Regardless of the path, we are charged with living life here and now. We can reminisce, we can and should share stories of our past for they have made us the person we are today, for without our past we have no grounding but without an uncharted future we are completely lost.  A sound or a smell may bring about a memory...celebrate this memory by living the moment, thus creating new memories, new opportunities become the truest version of self possible.  If we are to make our life our own, if we are to become the joy and love as promised by our Creator, then we need to step up and live our lives in celebration of our present. Chartered by faith, our future certain to find joy, to find love, to find peace for faith celebrated in the moment is faith lived under the Father's watchful smile. Nostalgic moments have a limit as does faith that never becomes one's own.  Many sermons have taught us that faith is a gift, that it can carry us through rough times; we have been told to live this faith and so we attend church, we teach our children the 10 commandments and make sure they treat others with respect but at what point does faith become our own; at what point do we stop trying to live the faith the pastor preaches taking hold of the reigns that we may celebrate life, our true life, in Christ?  Blindly following the faith of another us like that of nostalgic memory, it can only take us so far until we find ourselves pondering its truth and limitations. True is faith has no limits yet we limit its reach by our human shortcomings. When we are unwilling to assume faith  in accordance with our individual talents and likes, it is here that we live only a nostalgic memory tempered vicariously.  Assuming faith as our own is just like the gold tested in fire; life will not be perfect, everyday will not see a dozen of the most beautiful roses, rains will fall and winds will blow but faith will keep our face towards the Son that there may never be a second without the love of the Father.  Try new vacation spots or return to the places of your youth but make new memories which invoke joy, peace and love.   Life purposed in faith is life grounded in God, cradled in His arms.  To become our faith we must celebrate our person, celebrate our strengthens and continue to speak to and with the Father.  We do not all pray the same way, not should we for while my heart leads me to the waters of the ocean, the heart of another will lead them to the too of a mountain or the inside of a church. The Father constantly speaks, He constantly loves as He celebrates our individual lives; it is we who need to listen, we who need to hear His voice.  If the crowds of one shore point are too much, find a desolate shore point.  This is the same with the Father's voice, our instructions to living our faith; if the silence of the desolate beach intrigues the mind too much, return to the noise of the boardwalk and listen, watch the Father at work among the crowds.  Some people like seagulls others loath them, we all differ in our likes and talents how is it that we should be carbon copies of faith?  Mirrored images of faith only begets robotic movement, moments which may celebrate tradition but not God's personal gift of faith.  For faith to grow, it must be firmly planted that its roots may be deepened in the Father's love that, when showered with the Word of God, it may cultivate our faith allowing it to blossom into the beauty of our person.  A soul exposed in faith becomes a soul freed from nostalgic memories for it celebrates each memory by living and breathing the Father's love in the here and now.  Search the soul, understanding of self translates into the breath of God...His heart, our breath; His breath, our beat; His beat, our pulse; His pulse, our heart; His heart, our soul.  Let the soul walk each path as faith charters the journey.