It’s happening again. I am looking into the face of someone I know and can’t think of her name. Arghhhh! It’s only for a heartbeat, but she can sense it, or maybe I will just about get away with it. This is worse than the numerous trips upstairs only to think: “Why am I up here?” Yes, it’s good for the thighs, but surely there was another reason.

In church world, November is the season of remembering. It begins with remembering the people, past and present, who have helped us become all we are through celebrating All Saints’ Day. All Souls’ is next, when we remember those dear to us who have died. I read their names and we light candles and share memories and, strangely, it helps. The name I bring is of a dear man who died more than eight years ago; it simply makes a difference, something moves.

Remembrance Sunday was last weekend. People of all ages and all faiths, or none, gather to remember with gratitude those who have lost their lives in the heartrending process of defending us. It is the children of the parish who move me most here: Scouts, Guides, choristers, children, all bringing poppies up to the cross in such reverence and respect.

And this Sunday we remember the victims of abuse as we observe Safeguarding Sunday. In the midst of asking forgiveness for the past, we share what we are doing as a church so it “never happens again” and open our hearts to hear and help anyone suffering now.

Remembering can be painful even as it can bring joy. I have found myself officiating at more funerals this month than I remember in past Novembers. Throughout the service, within the sadness, we find ourselves laughing at something dear our loved one was known for doing, or something unbelievable that no one knew about except her daughter or best friend. Each life precious and rich. Each life holding treasure for all who take time to remember.

The month ends celebrating Jesus at Christ the King Sunday. Like Remembrance Sunday, we hold gratitude for the one who gave his life, but he is the original, the mould, the one who came and died for us intentionally out of love.

This one is easy to remember. I think it’s written in our DNA.