So here we are in a memorial service for Meredith, a woman who died way too young from inflammatory bowel disease. Her parents, Marcus and Pat are in my Sunday school class. Some of the class stalwarts are on these several rows where I’m sitting: Jim and Adelle, Chuck and Roselynn, Carol, Liz, Jim and Jane, others across the way on both sides of the sanctuary.
Ahh, a baby girl with rosy cheeks is across from me.
I wonder why I feel so sad? I didn’t know Meredith and am not close with her parents – we sit near one another in our 300 member class and I’m always happy to see them - they seem to be fundamentally nice people. That’s all and I guess it’s enough. Of course it’s The Great Sadness.
There are 5 or 6 goths, wearing black, pale and pierced on the back pew. I hope they’re connecting with this …
Come to me,
all of you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens,
and I will give you rest.
Spiritually these are desert days for me – I have nothing left to give except to those I love. Otherwise I’m kind of going through the motions – just doing what I do – I’m tired.
I am tired
I am weary
I could sleep for a 1000 years
The baby girl has a big voice. Fat little legs. Rosy cheeks. She’s got it all. If there’s a baby (God willing) at my funeral, babbling, fussing, doing all that baby stuff, then don’t take her out (and none of those don’t interrupt me looks from the minister – give me a break – he doesn’t get it, does he!?) – let her babble and fuss – give you joy.
Oh God our help in ages past
Our hope for years to come
Be Thou on guard while life shall last
And our eternal home