Sorrows and Celebrations

I've been thinking a lot over the last few days about the fragility of life.  Over the summer, while I was still in California and unable to make it home, my beloved uncle passed away suddenly.  Now, as I mentioned a couple of posts ago, another respected man in my church and my community died with little warning almost a week ago now.  This man and my uncle lived across the street from each other...and they both died of massive, unexpected heart attacks.  They both leave behind wives to whom they were married for over 50 years.  My uncle had spent the morning getting up hay, and the man from my church had spent his evening at Bible study.  They were both here one second and gone the next. There wasn't a lot of pomp and circumstance...there was no elaborate death scene...there were no drawn out moments for last requests and I love yous...just here, then gone.

I had a teacher who once said there are only two things you "have" to do in life...pay taxes and die.  We all must face death, but almost every one of us gets a bit squeamish when we take the time to really think about it.  We go through these periods - most often around the deaths of those close to us -  where we ponder our mortality, but it's usually only a short time until we push it away again, saving it to consider on another day.  Because no matter how much we realize we're not guaranteed tomorrow, we still expect it...we still plan for it...and we still take it for granted.

Yes, death is a part of life.  Funerals at my church are considered celebrations of lives rather than good-byes because we believe that there's something extraordinary beyond this world.  And that helps...it really does...but still, despite the hope and promise, your heart breaks over the immediate loss...the sorrow overwhelms...the sadness sets in...and you question how you'll even get out of bed the next day...you'll question whether it's even worth it.

But then you realize it is.  And somehow you manage to throw one leg out of the bed, then the other.  Because with all of your sorrow and grieving, the world keeps right on spinning, and life keeps moving.  So you trudge on, putting one foot in front of the other until each step slowly becomes a bit easier and a bit easier.  Then, you start to notice something...new life is springing up here and there...and the sting of the loss, though still not gone, is a little less sharp than before.

My church had a wonderful example of this last week.  Just a few hours after one member left this world, another one was born.  A brand, new tiny baby girl.  Her presence didn't replace the sorrow, but it reminded us that there is a circle to this life...where one person's ends, another's begins.  Even in the darkness there's still hope, there's still a promise that if we have the courage to take that next step, we'll find the sure footing we need to keep trudging on.  Though we will always look back with fondness, we must look forward with faith...with celebration of what was, what is, and what is yet to come.