Part of my Saturday will be spent at a Celebration of Life ceremony for a long-time friend and member of our congregation…it’s part of life, after all. May your Saturday be spent celebrating life in whatever way brings you peace, joy and happiness. Happy weekend.
Here it is, simply and beautifully illustrated…til death do us part. God bless these two beautiful people.
The deed was done. Jesus was dead. No one knew what was to come.
50 Now there was a man named Joseph, a member of the Council, a good and upright man, 51 who had not consented to their decision and action. He came from the Judean town of Arimathea, and he himself was waiting for the kingdom of God. 52 Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body. 53 Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen cloth and placed it in a tomb cut in the rock, one in which no one had yet been laid. 54 It was Preparation Day, and the Sabbath was about to begin.
55 The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. 56 Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes. But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment.
Yesterday I re-blogged a post, “Creating Memories” by Butch Dean. Today I want to re-emphasize some of the points Butch made because they are really memorable.
“Death has taken someone from our lives. The memories are as good as they’re going to get and there will be no more.”Read that last sentence again: “The memories are as good as they’re going to get and there will be no more.” How profound!
Butch also wrote, “We live with what we created…..we regret the rest of our life, a memory we could have changed, but didn’t.” I find this very insightful and worth thinking about, but more so, putting into practice.
“Focus on creating good memories…” Well, we don’t always do that, and why should we? The answer is in the first paragraph of Butch’s blog. “More often than not, we don’t see it until it’s too late; a memory that you’d just as soon forget has been made.”
Today’s post is perpetuated for a purpose and that is to be more aware of how we are living our lives. Are we making memories that will be a blessing to ourselves and others or are we making memories we would just as soon forget?
Yesterday’s lesson was about obstacles and finding riches; today’s is about giving in this last of the internet series of some of life’s lessons.
Giving When it Counts – Many years ago when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare and serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year-old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister. I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, “Yes, I’ll do it if it will save her.” As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheek. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded. He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, “Will I start to die right away?” Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her.
Yesterday’s internet lesson was about a cleaning lady. Today it is:
Pickup in the Rain – One night, at 11:30 p.m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her, generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 1960’s. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab. She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man’s door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached. It read: “Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband’s bedside just before he passed away. God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others.” Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.
Tomorrow – Remembering Those Who Serve
After attending a cousin’s funeral yesterday, I wondered how many of the people who also attended would enjoy a happy weekend. It came to me that because my cousin, until her Alzheimer journey, had been such a happy, upbeat person , no matter what touched her life, she still managed a smile. Was it always a happy smile? Maybe not, but even after attending her funeral, remembering her beautiful smile makes me happy anyway.
It is a sad time for many people who have lost loved ones very recently. No one can know the depths of another’s grief; no one can feel another’s aching feeling of loss; no one can bear another’s pain.
Life and death are caught up in each other’s shadow, in that death is a part of life and life is a continuation of death. Christmas is a very difficult time of year to have to face this reality. But then, is there ever a good time? I think not. Loss is loss whenever it occurs.
It has saddened my own heart to hear of the recent passing of two lovely ladies; one I have known for over sixty years, and the other I met just a few years ago. Both were, and are near and dear to their families and close friends. Both have left a gaping hole in the hearts of many.
Ecclesiastes says it best in chapter three, verse (1) There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: (2) a time to be born and a time to die, (4) a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,. (NIV)
Laughing and dancing will not be on the agenda of some of us this holiday season, but we will honor the lives of these two ladies and be sure to include them in the memories of Christmases past.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Matthew 5:4.
“Into this cold, stark world, naked and afraid, with a slap on the rump to give us breath and start us on the road to death.” This is a quote I read years ago and for some reason kept in my notes. When you think about it, it is not too unlike the poem, “The Dash”, written by Linda Ellis and posted on my July 19th blog this year. Both the poem and the quote give thought to the time between our birth and our death.
Whether our lives are short and sweet or long and sometimes arduous, it is the time between day one and the final day that matters. It is how we lived, loved, served; how we treated each other, how we forgave, how we acknowledged others, how we humbled ourselves. It is being open to teaching and learning life’s lessons and sharing our knowledge; it is about comforting, consoling and caring; it is about interest in others over self-interest, and it is coming to terms with “the after”.
There are those who believe that death is death and that is that; nothing more, nothing less, nothingness.
And then there are those who believe that death is a continuation of life, and to those who look forward to seeing their previously departed loved ones, death can only be a blessing after a journey along that road that began with our first breath.
So, rather than shed tears at the departure of a dearly loved friend or family member, I choose to smile, knowing that their real journey has just begun. The journey to life everlasting where only love rules…unconditional love…finally…after all that time traveling.
Psalm 23:4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,
On Friday, I attended a memorial for yet another of our church members. This man was relatively young…under seventy. Unlike other memorials we’ve had, this was very sparsely attended, because Andy tended to be somewhat of a loner since his parents died a few years ago. He was devoted to his parents and especially his mother after his father passed. He brought her to church every Sunday, wheeling her up to the front of the church where she could see and hear everything, even though she was far from understanding anything. You see, she had Alzheimer’s Disease. But that didn’t stop Andy from being the attentive son he always was. His parents were the only family he had here in Canada, though I’ve been told there were a few cousins in Holland.
Although none of us at the service felt we knew the man very well, in his meditation, our Pastor made it possible to get a glimpse into Andy’s lonely life. He spoke of his dedication as a teacher, his political affiliations, his generosity, his devotion to his parents. Andy donated and dedicated several hymn books to the church in memory of his parents. I opened one on Sunday with his name in it. Even though Andy’s ashes were in plain view, awaiting interment in our cemetery, it was Andy the man who occupied my mind during Friday’s ceremony.
I could see him sitting in a back pew or even in the Narthex, slightly disheveled, but attentive. Very seldom did he mingle after service for coffee or tea as most of us did. He came, he worshiped, he left…or so it seemed. (In case you’re wondering how I could see him sitting at the back of the church, I’m in the choir facing the congregation.)
There is a a saying that someone can be conspicuous by their absence…that was Andy on Friday, and the weeks previous to his death. He died peacefully in his sleep one night and save for Jesus, he died alone.
My Precious Life 