Grief

I stood by today as they loaded the body of my good friend and Presiding Clerk into a white SUV.
It seemed unreal that the woman who had only three weeks ago sat and talked about regaining strength and coming back to church was gone. My heart hurts.

I hurt for her husband of almost 56 years. I hurt for her two children and her grandchildren. I hurt for my congregation who has lost an excellent member and leader. I hurt for myself and the loss of her laughter, her efficiency, and her kind and caring heart.

It is funny that this thing we never expect--and yet is guaranteed to each of us; death does not ask our permission to come. Like an unwelcome house guest it was present today: tolerated, sometimes ignored, but its presence unmistakably heavy. We did not want it to come. We did not invite it to come. We dreaded its arrival, but we waited for it all week knowing that our dread and lack of hospitality would not keep it away. And why should death be held at bay?

For us it is miserable, awful, terrible, but for Marge death was the beginning of a new day. It is the start of her eternity with her beloved savior. It means a place with no more tears, fears, suffering, no more dying or death. Marge is rejoicing, forever celebrating, starting today. She is free. She is free from a body that for the past few months has failed her time and again. She is free from all pain. She is free, finally free, to dance at the wedding feast of the lamb--and you better believe she is dancing!