My brother thinks it’s a feminine trait to want to be lovingly remembered. He states guys don’t care if they are remembered at all. That’s an over-generalization to both sexes but I can understand his point. I want to be remembered. In fact, I informed my niece that in the majority of her Polaroid snapshots’ of memories, I want to be standing in the background. Waving. With a big, goofy grin.
I admit it; I should have more confidence in myself than I do. I should be comfortable enough in my own skin that I do what I do and not worry about the impression I make. But I worry. A former Young Women leader is the reason. The prominent memory I have of her is when she made fun of another young woman for not being able to tell time on a face clock. I couldn’t either, but there was no way I was going to admit it and share a portion of the mockery. To judge someone by one cloudy memory seems unfair. I sat in countless lessons offered by this teacher and probably experienced some of the first sparks of the Spirit under her tutelage. But what I remember is the mocking incident. I can’t control it. It’s what is there after years of other memories crowding in.
Now that I am in a similar position of teaching youth, I worry. What if the girls only remember the time I thought I lost my Visa card at the gas station (oh, so embarrassing)? Or the time they got home late from an activity? Will they remember testimony or teasing? The spiritual or silliness? The feelings or the flaws? The effort or the error? Or, which may be the worst option, nothing at all?
(sigh) Only time will tell.