When I wear a poppy, I remember.

In Grade 9 I job shadowed my Father. I pinned a red poppy on my burgundy sweater and began a day that changed my life.

My Dad is a priest. He took me to visit a man at the end of his life. I felt so nervous. I didn't know what to say to this elderly man. It seemed like our lives couldn't be any more separate.

His wife made us tea. We sat together. He told me about his life. He shared old black and white photos of him as a little boy, standing outside a one room school house. He told me about his father and how things were different back then.

I don't remember a lot of what was said. But I do remember feeling so alive. We spent hours in that living room. I felt like I had discovered a treasure.

This man who had seemed so irrelevant taught me to see people.

When he died, his wife-his widow, asked me to sing at his funeral. I had never even been to a funeral.

I stepped to the front of the tiny church. My feet felt glued to the floor. As I began to sing, "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound.....", my body was filled with electricity. I felt overwhelmed and completely loved. It would be years before I learned to associate this feeling with the presence of the living God.

After the funeral, we went back to the living room where I had met him. I ate marshmallow squares and looked at the family that he loved.

I wish I could have told them how God had used this man, Bill, to shape my life. He taught me to be curious about the lives of the people I meet each day. From Bill, I learned that everyone has a story. That everyone has joys and sorrows. That we're all connected.

When I wear a poppy, I remember.