Memory: 6; Reality: 2.
by Jack Roche
Northern Hills Fellowship
May 27, 2001

I contend that our memories often play tricks on us. Our Memories go beyond Reality.

Let me give you an example.

Several years ago, in Honolulu; I went for a stroll one evening on a sidewalk running along the beach, ....just east of Waikiki ....toward Diamond Head, approaching the Aquarium. Above the sounds of the surf, I thought I heard chanting.... Chanting,.... full-throated, awesome chanting, softly, as you might hear if you were in a Cathedral. I headed in the direction of the sounds and neared, what during-the-day was a rather large, permanent, beachside refreshment stand.

It was closed, but there on the beach-level, open-air, covered-porch/serving area was the source of my curiosity. Twenty, maybe twenty-five Adult men and women, singers of a Polynesian Church Choir, were practicing while sitting on grass mats on a concrete floor. Their leader/director/conductor was a young, bearded fellow who stood tapping the tempo with his baton on two large plywood blackboards covered with a strange kind of notation, probably chord symbols. And with his 4-4 tapping the echoing, resonant voices continued.... occasionally interrupted by the conductor's pitch-pipe.

So .... almost invisible, I sat on a near-by bench enjoying this private Concert.

A child, three, maybe four years old .... danced around her mother who was seated on the floor. The tot silently hopped; then flitted like a playful, sprightly elf on the right edge of the group. Her spur-of-the-moment ballet was fluid and quiet and seamless. After a few minutes, she saw me. She came over. "What's your name?" "Jack." "What's yours?" "My name is Selah". She extended her tiny fingers. We solemnly shook hands. Then she returned to her work.

The choir continued to chant. The surf continued to hush. The sun neared the horizon. And Selah;....Selah, the tiny; Selah, the perky; Selah, the charming; Selah, the delightful.... she gracefully hopped; and skipped; and flitted; and danced,.... and while dancing turned into the princess of all perfect butterflies. She flitted over the sand; over the surf; out over the reef; out over the Pacific Ocean and became, forever, part of the perfect Sunset.

Now, I KNOW that a little of this, is Not the way it REALLY, REALLY happened; but it is the way I fondly, fondly remember it.

Our Memories go Beyond Reality. See what I mean?

Memory:6; Reality:2.

Reader Response
Did you like this publication? Was it helpful to you? What elements do you agree with? In what ways do you have a different view? You may send your comments and thoughts to Jack Roche at jroche@uunhf.org.

Copyright ©2001 Northern Hills Fellowship