In the church where I pastor, on the first Sunday in November (All Saints Sunday), we traditionally remember people in our families and congregation who have died in the past year. This year, we will remember, among others, a family matriarch, a mother whose daughter inherited her love for crafts, a longtime and long ago choir member with a beautiful soprano voice.

For me, however, All Saints Sunday is more than a day to remember. Although not all people are blessed with the long and rich lifetimes they deserve, this day is also a time to appreciate that aging is a deeply spiritual process – one from which all of us can learn.

Most elders I have known aged with a certain grit tempered with graciousness and a wisdom reflecting values and worldviews that come about just by living a lot of years. We may not always agree with the values or the view, but they certainly nudge us into assessing our own perspectives.

If we are lucky, we are invited to participate in this spiritual process as we take the time to savor the “last times” with our elders, reconnecting with them while sharing life experiences. All the elders I have known have taught me something – likely more than I know now.

Our elders remind us that everyone has a story to tell, but not everyone has someone to tell it to anymore. These stories are the tendrils that lead us back through cultural and family history to our roots – and help us better understand who we are. I found out recently that my great-grandfather was a beekeeper who cared for his bees without a smoker, gloves or head veil. Is that who my newfound hobby can be traced back to – an Old World Swedish immigrant? And my daughter’s independent spirit that has taken her from southern Africa to South America? Surely that is her Canadian great-great aunt shining through, an educational pioneer and world traveler.

In addition, many of our elders embrace a philosophy that says that life is indeed good – and worth the journey, wherever it may have led. Innumerable elders have told me that their lives have been truly blessed – and, as their pastor, I have known those lives have seldom been easy. Along the way, they have encountered financial hardship, lost a child or a spouse, experienced limiting disabilities and endured health crises. I remember Edie, unable to leave her nursing home bed but affirming that, no matter how rocky her road had been, in the end, God had blessed her profusely, and she had so much to be thankful for. As she had aged, the cup became not only half-full, but overflowing.

Finally, I have learned that few words have the power of “I love you.” Whenever I see hands gnarled by arthritis, I remember Leola, her knobby fingers pulling me close to kiss me goodbye that final time and whisper, “I love you,” she fully understanding what I only could sense through my own tears at our parting. Those words have the power to offer forgiveness and to bind us one to another, be it in this world or the next. Say “I love you” every day – at least, that is what the elders told me.

So – thanks to my beekeeping great-grandfather and to my great-aunt. Thanks to Rosie the matriarch, Pat the craftswoman, Sally the soprano. Thanks to Edie and Leola. Thanks to all the elders I have known – for the memories, for the wisdom, for the time.

The Rev. Nancy Foran is pastor at Raymond Village Community Church, UCC.

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