A couple were in worship yesterday who looked really familiar. I noticed them during the sermon, and then when they came up for communion they looked at me knowingly. But I couldn’t place their names.
After the service they greeted me. A few awkward seconds passed after handshakes as they waited for me to say their names. I pretty quickly gave up trying to remember and did the thing I do nearly every week at this church, which is to apologetically admit that I’ve forgotten someone’s name; there’s a lot of people here, so it usually goes over without too much insult.
It only took one syllable of one of their names for me to remember: I married them, a fact they stated directly. How embarrassing. To forget the names of people who entrusted you with their big day. I have done a lot of weddings these past three years, but still; my inability to remember names sometimes is a serious ministerial liability.
They were gracious, of course, and expressed understanding. I resolved right away to send them a note this week saying how good it was to see them, and, of course, apologizing again. Even with that, yesterday may be the last time I see them.
I check my records. Their wedding was in November of 2017. I haven’t seen them since.
No more apologies after this.
YoRocko! 
Well done, Rocky — the apology and the post. I have trouble connecting names and faces myself, so I am in constant admiration of how all of you managed to remember anyone’s name at all. But this story shows that repetition does help. Thanks.