When I remember, recall, recollect, and recount

Pam Galloway
EVWP Summer 2009

Not once can I remember you complaining about how many,
many hours you worked. Or having to live away from your
family for a year so that we didn’t have to uproot. Or about going
to church for the morning and evening services every Sunday
or about waking up for prayer meetings at 5 a.m.

Not once can I recall you laughing at a joke made
in poor taste. Or put someone else
down to make yourself look better, even if
they did that to you.
Everyone was always amazed at your patience.

Not once can I recollect you taking credit for your wise choices
and saying how smart you were. Or claim to know all the
answers, even though you didn’t have a college degree
from a four year institution until late in life. You always
attributed everything to God and his mercy.

Not once can I recount someone speaking poorly of your
character. Not the people who worked under you for over thirty
years or the people who worked over you and around you.
Not even the pastor of the church who often asked how you raised
such a great family, since his children were rebellious.

I remember you saying prayers before all of our meals.
I recall you telling me how beautiful I am, how I don’t need to worry about boyfriends.
I recollect how you would think before you acted, how you sought Godly wisdom.
I recount the room full of people who came to your surprise party, who came to your retirement party, who came to our house for Christmas dinners, to remember, recall, and recollect all that you have done to show us how to live life well.