Joy vs Sorrow


Yesterday I encountered both joy and sorrow, not personally, but via social media.

The first story was about the death, on Mother’s Day, of Lauren Davis, the beautiful twenty-four old daughter of a well known media personality, Erin Davis, co-host of the Toronto radio station CHFI morning show. The tragic details are unknown at this time but the news is definitely one of sorrow…deep, deep sorrow.

The second story is about love. It’s about a couple who lived in Ottawa, dated for four years in their teenage years, drifted apart, each married other people, and became widowed in recent years. Happenstance caused them to reunite in Ottawa and rekindle the old flame. Today they are eighty-two and eighty-four years of age and planning to marry in June of this year. This is a story of joy…deep, deep joy.

These stories touch me deeply. I feel the sorrow of a mother losing her daughter to death; it breaks my heart. I also feel the bliss of the couple reunited after sixty-five years; it fills my heart with joy.

Joy and sorrow…each capable of filling the soul with heartfelt emotions…each capable of holding the heart captive…each a part of life…joy and sorrow.

Celebrating Life


On Saturday I attended two different life celebrations. One was a memorial for a dear friend’s husband, and the other was an 80th birthday party for a dear friend. Both events celebrated a continuation of  life; one here, and one in the hereafter. One celebration was as moving as the other, and I would not have missed either for anything.

Sunday’s events, besides the church service, were a committal and a concert. Once again different celebrations in different ways. The committal saw another member of our congregation on his way to continuing life, and the concert celebrated life’s commitment to music and song with a neighbouring church. The hymns we sang were chosen in memory of loved ones of that church’s congregation who also had transitioned.

It was a wonderful weekend of song and celebration, honouring the lives of those with us and those who haved passed on; a weekend of celebrating life.

Undying Love


Last December I wrote about visiting a couple in their eighties whose love was as strong then as when they were first married sixty-one years ago. Wilda had been quite ill for a long time, and sadly passed away yesterday, but their love will never die.

GRIEVE NOT FOR ME

Grieve not for me though I am gone

For I am with you still

God grant you strength to carry on

And understand His will.

A soft tear shed from time to time

Will ease your sorrowed mind

But live your life as fully

As you helped me live mine.

Time will heal the hurting heart

Faith will see you through

There’s still a life for you to live

With courage I leave you.

Remember me with thoughts of peace

Live each day with your heart

Grieve not for me for though I’m gone

We’re never far apart.

©1981 Patricia Ann Boyes

Who is He?


While little ones are scampering to fill their baskets with coloured eggs  left by that rascally bunny;  while tiny, yellow, peeping chicks are being fondled, and while hot-cross buns are being enjoyed along with that first cup of steaming coffee…let us not forget Him.

He was born to save us. (Matthew 1:21)

He lived to save us. (Luke 19:10)

He died to save us. (John 3:16)

He lives again to save us. (Romans 19:9)

Who is He?

He is Jesus.

He is the reason for the season!

Wishing everyone a blessed and happy Easter Day.

In Honor of Audrey


I attended another funeral yesterday. We lost thirteen members of our church in 2014, and so far two more this month. It has kept our Pastor pretty busy. He always does a wonderful service but this was one of his best ever.

The guest of honor had been a member of our church and choir for over fifty years, and had a special bond with our Pastor, having known his grandmother from a previous church congregation. Audrey’s pet peeve was that Duncan seldom wore his robe, preferring a clerical jacket and collar. I don’t think I have ever seen him in a robe.

Yesterday he mentioned the fact that he now knew that Audrey had always lamented that his sermons could have been better if he had only worn the robe. During his meditation, he stopped mid-sentence, peeled off his jacket and donned the clergy robe…in honor of Audrey.

It is the first time I have heard a round of applause at a funeral.

(Thanks, Alan, for suggesting this blog.)

When Too Much is Too Much


Last night a man who has lost his wife, sister and son within the past seven months came through our prayer chain. My heart is hurting just hearing this news; I can’t imagine his grief. Here is a person who needs all the prayers he can get.

A Dragonfly Story Reblogged


Yesterday a friend read this story to me over the telephone and suggested I might like to put it on my blog. She was right, so I did an internet search and lo and behold up popped the Dragonfly; and so once again I am sharing a piece of writing that touches my heart.

Dragonfly

The dragonfly story is particularly useful for those who attend a funeral who are distressed by the fact that their loved one has not made contact with them since their death.

Once, in a little pond, in the muddy water under the lily pads, there lived a little water beetle in a community of water beetles. They lived a simple and comfortable life in the pond with few disturbances and interruptions. Once in a while, sadness would come to the community when one of their fellow beetles would climb the stem of a lily pad and would never be seen again. They knew when this happened; their friend was dead, gone forever.

Then, one day, one little water beetle felt an irresistible urge to climb up that stem. However, he was determined that he would not leave forever. He would come back and tell his friends what he had found at the top. When he reached the top and climbed out of the water onto the surface of the lily pad, he was so tired, and the sun felt so warm, that he decided he must take a nap. As he slept, his body changed and when he woke up, he had turned into a beautiful blue-tailed dragonfly with broad wings and a slender body designed for flying.

So, fly he did! And, as he soared he saw the beauty of a whole new world and a far superior way of life to what he had never known existed. Then he remembered his beetle friends and how they were thinking by now he was dead. He wanted to go back to tell them, and explain to them that he was now more alive than he had ever been before. His life had been fulfilled rather than ended. But, his new body would not go down into the water. He could not get back to tell his friends the good news. Then he understood that their time would come, when they, too, would know what he now knew. So, he raised his wings and flew off into his joyous new life!

In Flanders Fields


In Flanders fields the poppies blow between the crosses, row on row, that mark our place;

and in the sky the larks, still bravely singing, fly…scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

loved and were loved, and now we lie in Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe;

to you from failing hands we throw the torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die we shall not sleep,

though poppies grow in Flanders fields.

John McCrae

Lest we forget.

 

Weddings and Wakes


This month I had the privelege of observing the celebration of life in two entirely different ways.

Both were the ending of old lives and the beginning of new.

One was a wake, and the other, a wedding.

The first was a memorial for a dear friend who exchanged life on earth for life everafter in the heavenly realm, leaving behind her role as daughter, sister, mother, wife; a life that death did part.

I witnessed the second celebration from a distance, but the reality was the same. This time the life left behind was that of singleness, in exchange for the role of wife, helpmate, lover, friend; a new life of sharing til death do part.

Both events were not only celebrations of life but continuations of life. One life had been fully lived, and the other will now be lived more fully.

It was my privelege to observe both the wake and the wedding of two beautiful ladies, exchanging old lives for new, and for each, the journey continues.

 

Grieve Not for Me


Back in 1981 a husband and wife were hurriedly putting the finishing touches on their life’s affairs. She had just been diagnosed with a brain tumor, and had days to live. He was devastated, but intent on carrying out his wife’s last wishes. I was in the middle of typing month-end financial statements when the following poem imploded my mind. I replaced the columnar paper with fresh, white, 8 1/2 by 11, and filled the page with the words that that brave woman inspired.

GRIEVE NOT FOR ME

Grieve not for me though I am gone

For I am with you still.

God grant you strength to carry on

And understand His will.

A soft tear shed from time to time

Will ease your sorrowed mind,

But live your life as fully

As you helped me live mine.

Time will heal the hurting heart,

Faith will see you through;

There’s still a life for you to live,

With courage I leave you.

Remember me with thoughts of peace,

Live each day with your heart;

Grieve not for me for though I’m gone…

We’re never far apart.

©1981

The untimely and tragic death of Robin Williams triggered the memory of this poem. May it bring comfort to someone now as it did to that bereaved husband in 1981.