When I open the layout for the weekly Reporter and discover that this Pastor’s Pen would appear on the same page as the obituaries, I stop for a moment. It feels like the page itself is speaking—quietly, gently—reminding me that ministry is always carried out in the presence of both memory and hope. To write and read beside the names of those who have died is to acknowledge that our reflections, prayers, and commitments are never separate from the real lives and real losses of our community.
Obituaries are more than announcements. They are small windows into lives that mattered—lives filled with work and rest, laughter and struggle, love given and received. They remind us that each person carries a story worth honoring. When we read them, we are invited to remember that our own days are precious, and that the way we live them shapes the world we leave behind.
This week, our remembering stretches beyond our town. Just days ago, our nation marked another anniversary of September 11—a date that still echoes across the years. Even 25 years later, the memories remain vivid for many of us: where we stood, what we saw, how the world seemed to shift in an instant. We remember the thousands who died, the first responders who ran toward danger, the families whose grief became a lifelong companion, and the communities that gathered in vigils and prayers when words were hard to find.
The anniversary of 9/11 always brings a mixture of sorrow and resolve. It reminds us of the fragility of life, but also of the extraordinary courage and compassion that human beings are capable of showing. In the days after the attacks, we witnessed neighbors helping neighbors, strangers comforting strangers, and communities choosing unity over fear. That spirit—quiet, determined, and generous—is worth remembering just as much as the tragedy itself.
As we reflect on the obituaries on this page and the national remembrance of 9/11, we are invited to consider what kind of hope we carry into the world. Not a shallow hope that pretends everything is fine, but a deep and resilient hope that insists on light even when the shadows grow long. This is the hope rooted in our faith—the conviction that God is near to the brokenhearted, that love is stronger than hatred, and that peace is possible even in a world that often feels fractured.
Our calling as followers of Christ is to embody that hope. Every act of kindness, every word of truth, every gesture of mercy becomes part of God’s quiet work of healing and renewal. We cannot undo the losses we remember, whether personal or national, but we can honor them by living with compassion, courage, and a commitment to peace.
So as you read this page—this unusual pairing of remembrance and reflection—may it remind you that life is sacred, that memory is powerful, and that hope is still worth choosing. May the peace of Christ rest upon the memories of those we have lost, and may that same peace guide us as we seek to bless the world we are called to love.
Rev. Dr. Paul Huh, Pastor of Walton United Presbyterian Church; pastorpaul@waltonUP.org; 607-865-4390
