Thursday, February 7, 2019

touching...honest...real...

A very good friend of My Sweet Hubby’s (aka MSH), David, passed away several days ago. He was 66. A smidge older than me. He’d been sick for close to two years. Critically ill for the past four months. Deaths of family members and cherished friends always remind us how short our time on Earth can be, right?

He was one of six of MSH’s friends who did a couple of annual get-togethers every year for over 30 years. It began as a deer hunt-weekend-campout once a year and then turned into an added annual fishing trip. They had the BEST times. They were very close. Like the perfectly cast ensemble in a TV series about friends.


David never married. I often thought the other five envied, occasionally, his freedom. Lifestyle. As one of their wives, I got it. I really did. I think even as a wife and mother, I’ve been a bit jealous of my friends who, for whatever reason—never marry or decide to divorce—are “free” to do whatever they want to do. Sleep. Travel. Go out anytime to shop or have dinner or to the movies—day or night. Did I mention sleep?

Anyway, David’s funeral service was Saturday morning. Of the six members of this cherished group of friends, three are left. MSH, Steve and Mike—the brother-in-law of David. Steve and MSH were honorary pallbearers. 

The service was perfect. The kind that makes you walk away thinking: That’s how I’d want my service to be. In a beautiful church full of my family and friends. With a kind and gentle minister who makes the service about me and not about a religion and its ceremonies and traditions. Music that gets into your heart and soul. (There was another dear friend and co-worker of MSH’s who sang two songs A cappella—who has an amazing God-given gift—and a man who played a guitar and sang the Brad Paisley/Dolly Parton song “When I Get Where I’m Going.” Both men were memorable. 

A friend from David’s college days gave the loveliest/funniest eulogy. Not too long but very touching and honest. It was real. It was David. 

The minister, who had only met David as he lived his last days in hospice care, also made us laugh—in a respectful and special way. 

At the cemetery, this minister shared something that I’ll always remember:

He said when he was in seminary, he had an instructor that asked his class one day what book of the Bible they would want to have in their possession if they could only have one. He admitted no one had an answer. It wasn’t something they’d thought about. The teacher said he’d want The Book of Romans. And, specifically, Chapter 8. He explained this Book is everything anyone needs to know about Jesus Christ. And Christian faith. 

I pray each of you lives this day—this week—in a way that honors God and His Son, Jesus Christ. That honors your family and friends and people you don’t know but who cross your path. This day is all we have. Let’s make it joyful!

Hugs...
ELC

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