On Wednesday I searched YouTube for audio or video of Apostle Arturo Skinner, the pastor of the megachurch family I was born into. He died a month after my sixth birthday, so my memories of him are vague at best. But I remember feeling seen and loved very much by him. I have memories of blowing kisses to him when he walked down the aisle to collect the radio offering, but those memories are faded like an old photograph with the details filled in by my mother. I also remember going to see him in his office. That’s about it. He would have been in his early 90s had he lived until now.
I don’t often think of him, but this time I wanted to hear his voice. Because my memories of him are wrapped up in genuine, mutual love I expected the sound of his voice to reawaken something in me, like hearing a favorite song from early childhood or a scent that takes you back to a precious childhood experience. I found a recording of the weekly radio broadcast he used to do and eagerly played it. But his voice did nothing for me. It was totally unfamiliar and sounded to me like that of any of the many Black Pentecostal preachers I have encountered throughout my life. I was disappointed.
But that goes to show how you make people feel is far more important and eternal than the sound/quality of your voice or the way you look or any other ability or physical characteristic you may have. Even if your voice is no different than anyone else’s or does not ring any bells, even if they barely remember you, people will remember how interacting with you made them feel for the rest of their lives. That is what matters most.