Category Archives: Saying Goodbye

Smiling through a Funeral

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Tears and crying are part and parcel of most wakes and funerals. That’s logical. But I’m learning that the funerals of people who have lived their lives well include hearty laughter and many smiles, too.

Today John Welch had such a funeral. Although his grandchildren, most in their twenties, had difficulty talking about their grandpa without crying, they also found themselves joking through their tears. Grandpa’s death caused sadness only because he was such a powerful presence in their lives, which was a good reason to smile.

The pastor turned to these “kids”, nearly twenty of them, and said, “I hope you realize how fortunate you all are, to have had a grandfather like yours, a man who prayed for you every day and told you he loved you every time he talked with you.” When the magnitude of blessing is that great, a funeral brings joy to its mourners along with their tears.

Those of us who attend such a funeral as secondary mourners, i. e. not part of the deceased’s family, find ourselves taking our cue from the primary mourners. We gain courage from their smiles and enjoy conversation with them and other dear friends we’ve not seen in years. Funerals are important events, and caring people gain courage from grieving together.

Something else positive happens at the funeral of a person who finished strong. We in the audience leave the event with a fresh resolve to live better ourselves, because the one being celebrated did so well. John Welch’s relatives described this man as one who prayed volumes, found good in everyone and steadily grew in his faith. After hearing this, I want to do the same.

Several speakers mentioned John’s attitude of humble servanthood and his gift of helps saying, “No job was beneath him.” As I listened, I asked myself if that was true of me. Was I willing to step into any set of circumstances where there was need? All I could see was massive room for improvement.

Joy and sorrow are closely linked. The old expression, “I might as well laugh or I’ll cry,” has a world of truth in it. Although John Welch had reasons to cry during his life such as having to bury both of his beloved wives, he practiced his hearty laugh on a daily basis and encouraged others to focus on the good in their lives.

He consistently testified that the only reliable source of true joy was his relationship with Christ. And because of this, he could laugh with gusto at his own troubles, and we could smile throughout his funeral.

“Even in laughter the heart may ache.” (Proverbs 14:13a)

Just you wait!

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A good friend died yesterday. John lived to the ripe old age of 89, a faithful example of Christianity to his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and all the rest of us. Although he was involved in the church in unnumbered ways, what I loved most about John was the way he frequently turned up in the middle of a crisis.

For example, he arrived at exactly the right moment to visit my dad in the hospital. None of us knew Dad was going to die that afternoon, but John’s presence stabilized this very emotional experience for my sister, brother and I. His prayer immediately after Dad’s passing is one I will never forget. This was John, always on hand to help with the needs of others.

Yesterday, I missed a call from John’s daughter Connie. Her message told of his death, which we’d known was coming soon. When I pushed the “redial” button, I thought I’d reach Connie’s cell but instead was ringing John’s home. But by this time, his apartment was empty, and I got his answering machine.

When I heard the just-deceased John’s strong voice come on the recording, I burst into tears:

“ I’m not able to come to the phone at this time…”

That sentence tore into my heart with its truth, reminding me again of the wrenching separation death creates between us and the ones we love. Death was Satan’s idea, and by our sin we fell into it.

I think often of the permanency of death’s separation, not throughout eternity but definitely in this life. The deceased are completely unreachable. This might be the core reason we grieve. As I’ve often said about Nate, if I knew I could have a few minutes with him, it’d be something to eagerly anticipate, to enjoy as it happened, and to savor afterwards. A mini-visit, even once a year, would mean so much.

But God has constructed a tantalizing plan whereby we can reconnect with our loved ones. There’s only one difficult hurdle: wait-time. The reunions of our dreams will occur with certainty, but they’ll be on God’s timetable, not ours.

I will be with Nate, and Connie will be with John, but that’ll be just the beginning. Reunions from all human history will happen, beyond our wildest imaginations. We’ll be on talking terms with Adam and Eve, Moses, Noah, Samuel, Jesus’ disciples, Paul and thousands of others.

But best of all, we’ll be in a face-to-face, one-on-one with Jesus Christ, who will be facilitating all the other get-togethers. We know it’ll be beyond our wildest imaginations, because the Bible says exactly that; if we can imagine it, that isn’t it.

The challenge is waiting with grace, staying involved in life until our number of days is completed, and looking forward to those phenomenal meetings with hope.

After that, no answering machine will have the power to make us cry.

“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9)

Remembering Our Anniversary

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Although Nate and I would have been married 41 years today, I’ve decided to officially stop counting. He isn’t here, and our real number froze just short of 40. Although I enjoyed paging through our wedding photo album today, I’m wearing his wedding band on a chain around my neck, a reminder of his absence. Even so, it wasn’t a difficult day.

To the contrary, it was a day of boundless energy like I haven’t experienced in months. The hours ran out long before my pep, and a lengthy list of chores-in-waiting got done: organizing the basement, doing laundry, baking, washing windows, cleaning house, taking down the screens, writing letters, pruning the house plants and paying the bills. A year ago I would have looked at that list and set it aside with a deep sigh, unable to even get started. And because of the difference between then and now, I know my heart is healing.

One of the reasons for this measurable progress is, I believe, the kindness of friends. Today’s mail had a handful of greeting cards and letters in it, written with love as others remembered our anniversary. Most of them promised prayer for me today. Such thoughtfulness moves me deeply and is probably the reason everything turned out well.

During a call from Linnea this morning, we chatted about wedding anniversaries. The date is important to only two people, unlike birthdays, graduations or promotions. An anniversary is a party-for-two, a small event with great significance. But because Nate is gone, my annual celebration has to stop.

Yesterday I pointed out to Birgitta where her father and I spent our short but delightful honeymoon: at the Drake Hotel in downtown Chicago. Nate was in law school, and I was teaching. Four days was all the time-off we could get, and we made the most of it. Happy honeymoon memories flooded my mind today, and I even caught myself humming.

No marriage is without its rough places, though, and we had our share. The fact that we made it 40 years is a testimony to God’s involvement in the relationship. After all, marriage was his idea, and as a bride and groom recite their vows, he’s there, too. Because he wants couples to succeed, he’s available for counsel and encouragement all along the way and doesn’t have to be asked twice. Nate and I called out for rescue several times in our years together, and God always restored our relationship.

Interestingly, a marriage often becomes stronger after surviving a period of struggle. It’s as if the marriage muscle gets built up through the exercise of hanging-on-no-matter-what. None of us can predict what life will throw at our marriages, but one thing is sure: God is rooting for us through all of it. He’s the third member of every union, and if we invite him to the anniversary celebration, he’ll always be willing to change that party-for-two to a party-for-three.

“A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken.” (Ecclesiastes 4:12)