Today I presided at a Celebration of Life for a feisty, spirited 84 year old woman. She was a member of the local Legion for decades and was a hardworking member of the Ladies Auxiliary. I had never met her, but her reputation was fierce. I think, had we met, we’d have hit it off.
I met with most of her six children earlier this week and talked about what they wanted/needed from the service. We discussed scripture, prayers, eulogies, reflections and then I sat and listened as the stories began. Many were humorous, some were poignant, and the image that began to develop became quite clear.
Today I met with the family prior to the visitation and I was overwhelmed with the number of children, from newborn to a dozen years old, they were out in force. It was a brilliant collection of noise and excitement, with children playing tag, hide and seek and generally avoiding their parents. A little girl and I chatted about the best shoes (sparkly of course) and whether or not her grandpa should wear hair do-dads like she was (we decided he’d have to grow out his hair first).
About half an hour before the service was to begin, a little boy, about 7 or 8 years old was sitting in the chapel looking at a stained glass image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd. I knelt down next to him and asked him if he knew who the man was in the picture. He shook his head. I introduced him to Jesus and he asked question after question about the picture. “Where does he live?” “How do you get to be a shepherd?” “Did he get to take his staff with him?” “Is Grandma with him now?”
When we had finished the chat, and I had answered his questions as best as I could I turned around and there were two dozen people standing there, listening to our conversation. I smiled and went to check in with the funeral director and organist. It was time to get on with my “job”.
The youngest daughter sought me out and gave me a big hug. “Thank you” she said. “I wanted to hug you the other day, but lost my nerve”. I smiled and said I’m always ready for a hug…to give or to receive. She said to me “Mum would have loved you.” The comment threw me off a bit, but I smiled again and thanked her.
The service was very well attended, with many familiar faces in the congregation. I chatted with a group of three ladies who are at most all community functions together. And they will be at the Celebration of Life for a parishioner who passed away last night. His celebration will be on Monday morning.
We finished the service and I led the family outside. The weather had changed from sunny and cool to downright miserable with rain. The temperature continued to drop and the rain continued to fall as we headed to the cemetery. By the time we got there, the heavens had opened fully and we were all soaked to the skin.
Umbrellas were turning inside out, and there seemed no escape from the cold, the wind, and the rain. My service book was sodden so I had to wing some of the prayers as I couldn’t see through my fogged up eyeglasses.
I had gathered the great grandchildren around me and asked if they wanted to place a handful of earth in the grave. They did and we huddled together as their great uncle lowered the box of his mother’s ashes into the grave. The wind picked up and howled as I said “earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust”. The children and I dropped our handfuls of soggy muck into the grave and then it was time to go.
I hitched a ride back to the funeral home, then took off my soggy vestments, put on my suit jacket and headed to the Legion to check in with the family. As I pulled into the parking lot the sun broke through the clouds and the temperature began to rise. And I started to laugh.
The oldest son of the woman who died arrived at the same time I did. He got out of the car and started to laugh as well. Well played Elva, well played!
Inside the Legion I said the blessing over the food and the crowd began to eat. I chatted with the children, as they showed me their video games and said they liked the part with the dirt. So did I.
I checked in with each of the children and their spouses and they are all doing quite well. Each of the three daughters said to me, “Mum would have loved you. You are just like her”.
Wow.
That has to be one of the greatest compliments I have ever received. And when the days become long and challenging, I try to hold on to these moments. To remind myself of what God has called me to. To be present in the moment. And above all, to never lose my sense of humour.
Tomorrow is my traditional day off. Far too often I’ve been doing “just one little thing” on my day off which ends up being half or all of the day. Not tomorrow. I have a list of things that will wait for Saturday. I have an appointment in the city at 8:00 a.m. and will spend time after that doing things for me. Some shopping, maybe get my hair done. And then lunch with a good friend. After that an afternoon nap.
And then wait for my daughter at the bus stop before lurching headlong into the weekend.
Today was a day of journey and blessing. And tomorrow will be a day of rest and rejuvenation. Because I have to say, this vessel is dangerously empty, and needs very much to be refilled.
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Barefoot Bellringing 