Saturday we buried a remarkable woman. My Altar Guild partner and I draped her coffin with the beautiful funeral pall, and I watched sadly as the casket moved slowly up the aisle, the priests in their festival garments following it. The service was wonderful; two of her children spoke movingly about her, and Mrs. Priest gave a gentle, loving homily.
Mary lived 90 fruitful years. When I met her, 25 years ago, she was still doing the books for our village library. I watched her age with grace, always cheerful, even when incapacitated with pain. I visited her several times, bringing her Communion and the flowers from church in these last years, but just to visit in the past. I loved sitting in her wide and welcoming livingroom with its big windows facing our lovely lake.
I knew she had married an older man, and that they together had 5 children. What I didn't know until after her death is that when she married her beloved, he already HAD 5 children, and she raised all ten. Her son mentioned how she loved to garden, how she struggled in houses that were old and unheated, how she prepared wonderful meals, and how happy she was when she and her husband finally moved permanently into their summer cottage on the lake.
An interesting note: I have no idea if the son who spoke with such love and grief in his voice, or the daughter who read the beautiful poem she wrote in tribute to her mother, were from the "step" group or the later group. And that sums up Mary. Those ten children were hers to love and cherish and raise, and she did it with humor, wisdom, and incredible energy. And there certainly was no way to tell who all the grandchildren at the funeral belonged to. The family alone nearly filled the center of the church.
And there were tears, of course, but there was laughter too. The reception afterwards was joyous as the family began to accept that Mary is now pain free and with her husband. Mary would have been embarrassed at the hoop-lah of the day, but would have rejoiced in the gathering of the clan.
Mrs. Priest ended her homily with the story of the ship who leaves the shore, carrying the body of a loved one. As the ship slowly sails away, the people on the shore are weeping with grief, waving and watching until the ship is out of sight. What they don't see is the other shore, where the people are weeping with joy, waving and watching until the ship carrying their loved one docks on their side.
Remembering her fondness for the lake, and sailing, it was a fitting story and image of Mary arriving on the heavenly shores, with all her loved ones weeping and cheering to welcome her.
Life is mysterious, but good. Thanks be to God, Amen.
7:34 PM
I drove out of the garage into a blizzard this morning; just minutes before it had been rain. The road was covered with about 1-2 inches of wet, sloppy snow. I had trouble seeing through the dark, and my wipers weren't swiping the moisture off the windshield. Half-way to work, I realized I didn't have my glasses on. I see pretty well without them, but my license says I need to wear them. And in the dark and wet, blizzardy conditions I guess I really did. I would have been late meeting my co-worker at the garage where I was leaving my car to get inspected if I went back for them, so I did without them all day. Now, my eyes are red and blotchy and they HURT! But I got there and back safely.
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