Since the Liberian funeral of my friend Steve, I have wanted to write about my thoughts. Not that the thoughts themselves are so grandiose, but really, for ME anyway, blogging is a way of talking and getting the stuff inside my head out into the light of day. I think perhaps there are people who ruminate and think and when they speak it is after they have mulled over lots of thoughts privately and then VOILA' something good comes forth. However, for me that changed the day that my husband of 31 years and even more years of being my listening post, left. On a good day I joke that he probably got tired of hearing what was in my head. On a bad day, I think my head talk is the reason he left. No matter, I am talking now and the contents of my head are overflowing so I am compelled to write. The memorial service/funeral was almost too amazing to speak of and yet I must!! It was held a week after Steve's untimely death in a part of Philadelphia I am unacquainted with, so I started early for the 9:00 am service on Saturday. As I neared the area, I noticed parking would be difficult since the police had barricaded the streets for a festival of sorts. I also noticed that I was looking a bit like a marshmallow in a cup of hot chocolate, bobbing around and sticking out quite plainly. The more amazing scene was the church - full of finely dressed Liberians,many carrying in large pans of foods, to be later served as they grieved their loss together over
the universal balm of the soul-food. The service was on a time schedule of the limitation of 3 hours before the graveside service was to begin. The length of cars with purple cards in the windows was at least two blocks long already with more pouring in by the minute. The attire was basic black with an occasional spot of color splashed in and I , of course already looking out of place, had on the closest thing to black I have-a brown skirt. There were men and women and not too many small children other than the youngest of the 6 sons, whom I only glimpsed at the end hanging onto his mommy's skirts. He is 10 or so and I knew him when I worked at the school where he attended. My heart is sad for his loss of a man he will someday want to emulate, but encouraged that his five older brothers have a good start on doing just that. There was singing, there were memories spoken, testimonies of goodness given, organizations represented, and tears shed. The majority of people who spoke wondered how his shoes would be filled and yet also spoke of God being able to fill them well. Sadness and shock mixed with joy and acceptance was a powerful combination. After 2 hours I found myself needing to stand in the back and so I was able to see what was behind me in this very old and large church. There was a sea of people filling the church pews! Not just a few, not just the usual representation when someone dies and one must go to a funeral...an ocean of love was packed into the pews like sardines in a can. The back aisles were crammed with people and the basement had women preparing the lunch to follow. I counted over 600 people and finally gave up! The service in the church ended with occasional,gentle admonitions from Pastor Mike, and flowed out the door and into the street and waiting line of cars quickly and quietly. At this point I watched as the cars rolled away, feeling that my presence was no longer necessary while also knowing that the afternoon had just begun for these mighty friends and family of Steve. After all, the same crowd had been together grieving at the wake the night before and since my son Andrew attended and came home at 2:30 am from it, I knew the capacity to comfort and uphold each other was strong in this Liberian community.
I spoke of this experience being amazing to me and I speak that word quite intentionally rather than lightly. There is a song that speaks of amazing too.Had it not been for the amazing grace of Jesus Christ, this funeral and so many others would truly be devastating and unbearable. But it wasn't and it doesn't have to be for anyone. We are momentarily sad and will miss our friend, father, brother, uncle, cousin, much and often. Amazing is that we still have Hope of seeing him again, of him being alive forever, and of the sadness diminishing and joy returning.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see! Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come.'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home. When we've been there 10,000 years, bright shining as the sun, we've no less days to sing God's praise than when we first begun! This familiar oft sung hymn has been memorized and sung by many.The greatest impact of the words, however, are not at a ball game when sung by a famous singer. The greatest impact and
necessity to any of us personally will be at the funeral of a young , vital, much loved man of 51 years, or at the side of a sobbing mother in China as she unburies from the rubble of an earthquake the lifeless body of her only child who had earlier that day just gone to school, or during the recovery of bodies swept to sea by a cyclone tearing into Myanmar and leaving entire villages gone.My head goes on and on, inside replaying the news releases and reports of terrorists in India and floods in the Midwest and shootings of police officers and homeless people. Truly the only way the
stuff of this life comes out of my head is amazingly simple. Trusting God that He knows what He is doing and that His plan includes me, and China and Myanmar and that He indeed does hold the whole world in His hands. AMAZING.
the universal balm of the soul-food. The service was on a time schedule of the limitation of 3 hours before the graveside service was to begin. The length of cars with purple cards in the windows was at least two blocks long already with more pouring in by the minute. The attire was basic black with an occasional spot of color splashed in and I , of course already looking out of place, had on the closest thing to black I have-a brown skirt. There were men and women and not too many small children other than the youngest of the 6 sons, whom I only glimpsed at the end hanging onto his mommy's skirts. He is 10 or so and I knew him when I worked at the school where he attended. My heart is sad for his loss of a man he will someday want to emulate, but encouraged that his five older brothers have a good start on doing just that. There was singing, there were memories spoken, testimonies of goodness given, organizations represented, and tears shed. The majority of people who spoke wondered how his shoes would be filled and yet also spoke of God being able to fill them well. Sadness and shock mixed with joy and acceptance was a powerful combination. After 2 hours I found myself needing to stand in the back and so I was able to see what was behind me in this very old and large church. There was a sea of people filling the church pews! Not just a few, not just the usual representation when someone dies and one must go to a funeral...an ocean of love was packed into the pews like sardines in a can. The back aisles were crammed with people and the basement had women preparing the lunch to follow. I counted over 600 people and finally gave up! The service in the church ended with occasional,gentle admonitions from Pastor Mike, and flowed out the door and into the street and waiting line of cars quickly and quietly. At this point I watched as the cars rolled away, feeling that my presence was no longer necessary while also knowing that the afternoon had just begun for these mighty friends and family of Steve. After all, the same crowd had been together grieving at the wake the night before and since my son Andrew attended and came home at 2:30 am from it, I knew the capacity to comfort and uphold each other was strong in this Liberian community. 
I spoke of this experience being amazing to me and I speak that word quite intentionally rather than lightly. There is a song that speaks of amazing too.Had it not been for the amazing grace of Jesus Christ, this funeral and so many others would truly be devastating and unbearable. But it wasn't and it doesn't have to be for anyone. We are momentarily sad and will miss our friend, father, brother, uncle, cousin, much and often. Amazing is that we still have Hope of seeing him again, of him being alive forever, and of the sadness diminishing and joy returning. Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see! Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come.'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home. When we've been there 10,000 years, bright shining as the sun, we've no less days to sing God's praise than when we first begun! This familiar oft sung hymn has been memorized and sung by many.The greatest impact of the words, however, are not at a ball game when sung by a famous singer. The greatest impact and necessity to any of us personally will be at the funeral of a young , vital, much loved man of 51 years, or at the side of a sobbing mother in China as she unburies from the rubble of an earthquake the lifeless body of her only child who had earlier that day just gone to school, or during the recovery of bodies swept to sea by a cyclone tearing into Myanmar and leaving entire villages gone.My head goes on and on, inside replaying the news releases and reports of terrorists in India and floods in the Midwest and shootings of police officers and homeless people. Truly the only way the stuff of this life comes out of my head is amazingly simple. Trusting God that He knows what He is doing and that His plan includes me, and China and Myanmar and that He indeed does hold the whole world in His hands. AMAZING.
1 comment:
I have often thought about who would come to my funeral if it were a dark, cold, rainy day. I wonder who would stay the longest, looking over my grave, truly sorry for my passing. It makes me want to be more of an impact while I am alive!
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