I wonder about memorial services, funerals and the like, and what they mean for people who only knew the deceased marginally or not at all. Are they long and boring? What if the service is from a faith different from their own? Are they uncomfortable? What's the proper protocol? When do I stand up, sit down? And what about this person that they had no or very small connection to? What can they hope to learn about them? What can an hour and half tell you about someone who lived for sixty plus years? What can an hour and a half tell you about anybody, no matter how long they lived?
And for those of us who did know her, what was left out? What memories do we choose to share, what do we keep to ourselves? It's an odd thing, reviewing a person's life and picking and choosing what parts get displayed. At such times as these, we choose to remember the best parts of her.
In our grief we like to be consoled. And we choose to recall happy moments, things that make us smile. We remember the best parts of her. If there were disagreements or unflattering things she had done or said, they can wait. Why add to the misery? I think there will be time enough to think on such things.
The past eleven days have been a whirlwind of activity. We've had family from out of state staying over at our house. I met one of the wife's cousins whom they hadn't seen in twenty plus years, when she was an infant, and I had never met. There have been cards and cards and cards. Very nice ones too. Flowers and flowers and flowers, also very nice. People have brought by food. It seems incredible that it hasn't been two weeks since she died and already it feels like a month. We've been going through her stuff, going out to eat, visiting with one another. Hardly a moment to one's self. I suppose that's a good thing. There are times to be alone and times to be together. This was a time to be together. Just, wow, with all the family and friends and well wishers. All the phone calls and cards. The driving back and forth from one place to another. I never saw such activity from so many people in such a short period of time.
Now that the flurry of activity is done, where do we go from here? Friends and family we haven't seen or spoken to in years, will we keep in touch? We exchanged phone numbers and emails. How far will good intentions carry us? How long before life settles back into a routine?
What will holidays be like without her cooking? What will birthdays and anniversaries be like? Graduation? God-willing, the birth of her grandchildren? What's Mother's Day without your mother? There was a book that came out some years ago called "Tuesdays With Morrie" by Mitch Albom about a young man's visits with an old man, Morrie, and their conversations and what lessons the young man learned from Morrie. For the wife, she had Tuesdays with Mommy. Thankfully, the last couple Tuesdays have been filled with activity. And this Tuesday we'll be getting ready to leave for vaca and next Tuesday we'll be coming back from vaca. But what about after that? A good friend of the family has basically insisted that my wife come and visit her on the following Tuesday after she gets back. Don't call, just show up. It won't be the same-nothing ever will be-but at least she won't be alone.
I have been told that there will be periods of intense longing and sadness. Probably some time after we get back from vaca, or even during. They're normal, but still may take us by surprise. A silly, random thing can pluck a heart string and stir a memory. I can't think of anything at the moment, but I know that they will come. Is there any defense against such attacks on the soul?
I suppose not. We cannot rely on our own strength, our own understanding. Is not God sufficient for us? It's been said that God never gives us more than we can handle. Maybe not. I'm glad He knows how much I can handle. I'm not sure I do. I wish I didn't have to find out.
What is the best way to honor the memory of the dead? What do we think she would have us do? What would she want? Would she say, weep not for me, for I am with Jesus? Would she say, let not your hearts be troubled? Would she say, sing unto God? I think so. I just don't know how.
I don't have the words. I don't have the voice. My heart is still raw and sore and bleeding. Let others lift up their voices in song. I can only write what I feel in my heart.
Lord, open my lips that my mouth may declare your glory. (Psalm 51) Amen.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Memorial Service
We had the memorial service for me mother in law on Sunday. Not a funeral, as there was no burial. Her wishes were to be cremated. So her cremains were in a simple wooden box on a table at the front of the church. The box was covered with a simple linen cloth. On the right side of the box there was an 11x14 photograph of her taken at the wife's and my house a couple years ago for Mother's Day beautifully matted and framed by the wife. And on the left side was a drawing on black paper of her as a child holding onto her doll with her right hand and onto Jesus with her left and she was facing a doorway through which a shaft of light was coming. Her husband drew that one several years ago.
We sort of made an improptu receiving line as people were coming into the church. The service began with the song "Balm in Gilead" (one of her favorites) being played on the piano. The priest, or rector (not sure what you call the spiritual leader in a Lutheran church) came up the center aisle followed by his wife holding a really large cross then a close personal friend dressed in white vestments and the family, the husband, the firstborn son and his wife, the wife and I, the youngest daughter, the sister, the brother and his eldest daughter, and an adopted daughter (our housemate).
We sang a hymn (forget which one). The first reading was from Isaiah 25:6-9, read by the sister. The second reading was Romans 8:31-39, read by the firstborn son. The third selection was Psalm 106:1-5, chanted (not sung) by the wife, beautifully done too, I might add. The husband read from the Gospel of John (hrmmm... I forget which passage now).
The priest gave the sermon talking about her life. How she "wished it was a musical." Aye, that she did. She loved music. Loved singing. Delighted in her family playing and singing. Her role as a teacher, leading Christian education, Godly play, even teaching the priest a few things. Her goodness, her generosity, her love for her family. It was really touching. I think there was another song. The woman did really like her music and we had plenty of it during the service.
Then we stood up as the youngest daughter and our housemate read the prayers of the people. Then I got up to recite the Mourner's Kaddish in Hebrew and in English. I believe she would have liked it as she was greatly interested in Hebrew and learning what the original language of the Bible said. Mind you, we're still standing.
Then came the elements for the eucharist, brought forward by the daughter in law and a close personal friend who is a pastor at a local church. Then the singing of a doxology and as people came forward to receive the bread and wine, another song. Gosh, I just can't remember the titles. We finally got to sit down after the family (who went first) went up to receive communion.
I didn't partake, in case you were wondering. Neither did the brother's daughter, who is RC.
Then the family recollections. Her sister got up and read something she had written about her sister. It was heartfelt and emotional and she struggled a bit, but got through it. The youngest daughter read something she wrote, which was also very emotional. The adopted daughter read a one paragraph statement, which was very sweet. Then the husband (me father in law) got up and talked about this woman whom he had been married to for 42 years and 2 months plus a four year courtship. It was sprinkled with little anecdotes that made some laugh, which was nice. I was grateful that he said he would not go into detail over that time period. I also wonder, how do you tell a group of people (most of whom who knew her, but only marginally) of the love of your life that you had for so many years? Can it really be condensed into a five, ten minute speech? Not really. No, not at all. People would be left with a few select memories of this woman. What her family wished to share about her. Which is nice and all, but you still don't know her. Ah well, the service would take way way way too long if everybody who ever knew her got up and said something about her.
The Apostles' Creed, the Lord's Prayer, some more hymns and a commendation. It's all out of order, but those pieces were in the service as well. Ah, the last hymn was "Onward Christian Soldiers." I think she would have liked that as well. Once the memorial service is over, which we called a celebration of her life, it's time to march on. It's time to carry her memory and light forward into the world. Do as she would wish us to do. Live life fully, for the glory of God. Serve Him with all your heart and soul, for such was her life.
We finally get done, the wife races to the rest room, and we form another receiving line. It was really nice to see how many people had come to the service. The husband's co-workers, friends of the family, church members, members of the community choir of which she participated, people we hadn't seen in years, even my boss and his wife and our office manager and his wife came. Now, my boss and his wife had met me mother in law twice. Once at a Jack and Jill party during the wife and my engagement. And the second time was at our wedding. The office manager and his wife had never met her, but they showed up anyway to support me. That was a nice touch.
In the hallway outside the sanctuary were several tables and chairs for people to sit at and have coffee or tea. And on one of the tables was a small photo album that the youngest daughter had put together with photographs of her mother from infancy through college, marriage, and motherhood. Really very neat. Also included were photographs of her parents, her siblings, her husband, her children, the pets, family vacations, family friends, etc. Again, pieces of her life.
All in all it was a really nice ceremony. Very touching, but also good for the soul.
Praise Adonai to Whom our praise is due. Praise Adonai to Whom our praise is due, now and forever.
We sort of made an improptu receiving line as people were coming into the church. The service began with the song "Balm in Gilead" (one of her favorites) being played on the piano. The priest, or rector (not sure what you call the spiritual leader in a Lutheran church) came up the center aisle followed by his wife holding a really large cross then a close personal friend dressed in white vestments and the family, the husband, the firstborn son and his wife, the wife and I, the youngest daughter, the sister, the brother and his eldest daughter, and an adopted daughter (our housemate).
We sang a hymn (forget which one). The first reading was from Isaiah 25:6-9, read by the sister. The second reading was Romans 8:31-39, read by the firstborn son. The third selection was Psalm 106:1-5, chanted (not sung) by the wife, beautifully done too, I might add. The husband read from the Gospel of John (hrmmm... I forget which passage now).
The priest gave the sermon talking about her life. How she "wished it was a musical." Aye, that she did. She loved music. Loved singing. Delighted in her family playing and singing. Her role as a teacher, leading Christian education, Godly play, even teaching the priest a few things. Her goodness, her generosity, her love for her family. It was really touching. I think there was another song. The woman did really like her music and we had plenty of it during the service.
Then we stood up as the youngest daughter and our housemate read the prayers of the people. Then I got up to recite the Mourner's Kaddish in Hebrew and in English. I believe she would have liked it as she was greatly interested in Hebrew and learning what the original language of the Bible said. Mind you, we're still standing.
Then came the elements for the eucharist, brought forward by the daughter in law and a close personal friend who is a pastor at a local church. Then the singing of a doxology and as people came forward to receive the bread and wine, another song. Gosh, I just can't remember the titles. We finally got to sit down after the family (who went first) went up to receive communion.
I didn't partake, in case you were wondering. Neither did the brother's daughter, who is RC.
Then the family recollections. Her sister got up and read something she had written about her sister. It was heartfelt and emotional and she struggled a bit, but got through it. The youngest daughter read something she wrote, which was also very emotional. The adopted daughter read a one paragraph statement, which was very sweet. Then the husband (me father in law) got up and talked about this woman whom he had been married to for 42 years and 2 months plus a four year courtship. It was sprinkled with little anecdotes that made some laugh, which was nice. I was grateful that he said he would not go into detail over that time period. I also wonder, how do you tell a group of people (most of whom who knew her, but only marginally) of the love of your life that you had for so many years? Can it really be condensed into a five, ten minute speech? Not really. No, not at all. People would be left with a few select memories of this woman. What her family wished to share about her. Which is nice and all, but you still don't know her. Ah well, the service would take way way way too long if everybody who ever knew her got up and said something about her.
The Apostles' Creed, the Lord's Prayer, some more hymns and a commendation. It's all out of order, but those pieces were in the service as well. Ah, the last hymn was "Onward Christian Soldiers." I think she would have liked that as well. Once the memorial service is over, which we called a celebration of her life, it's time to march on. It's time to carry her memory and light forward into the world. Do as she would wish us to do. Live life fully, for the glory of God. Serve Him with all your heart and soul, for such was her life.
We finally get done, the wife races to the rest room, and we form another receiving line. It was really nice to see how many people had come to the service. The husband's co-workers, friends of the family, church members, members of the community choir of which she participated, people we hadn't seen in years, even my boss and his wife and our office manager and his wife came. Now, my boss and his wife had met me mother in law twice. Once at a Jack and Jill party during the wife and my engagement. And the second time was at our wedding. The office manager and his wife had never met her, but they showed up anyway to support me. That was a nice touch.
In the hallway outside the sanctuary were several tables and chairs for people to sit at and have coffee or tea. And on one of the tables was a small photo album that the youngest daughter had put together with photographs of her mother from infancy through college, marriage, and motherhood. Really very neat. Also included were photographs of her parents, her siblings, her husband, her children, the pets, family vacations, family friends, etc. Again, pieces of her life.
All in all it was a really nice ceremony. Very touching, but also good for the soul.
Praise Adonai to Whom our praise is due. Praise Adonai to Whom our praise is due, now and forever.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Praise God
Phil 4:4. Psalm 52:9; 75:9.
Paul says to rejoice in the Lord always. He even repeats the command-"and again I say, rejoice." The Psalms declare praise of God forever.
I wonder, in the midst of despair, of darkness, of sadness, of heartache and woe, of misery, is it possible to rejoice in Him? Can we praise Him at all times, even when we don't feel like it?
Sure, it's easy to accept the good from the Lord and give thanks unto Him for the many blessings He has bestowed upon us. When we can eat our fill and have fine houses and clothes for our bodies and shoes for our feet, when we are surrounded by family and friends and can fellowship with one another, it's a right and good and easy thing to rejoice in the Lord. It's also easy to forget the Lord too. (Deut 8). Be that as it may, when times are good, it's by far easier to rejoice in the Lord and praise His Name.
Now, on the other side, when we are overcome with grief, with sorrow, with bitter tears, with anger at the unfair taking of life, with thoughts of unspoken words, last memories, things that will never be done, how can we rejoice? If the command is to rejoice always, that means to rejoice at all times. In good and bad. In joy and sorrow. In times of plenty and times of want. Always. Don't rejoice only when you feel like it.
And yet, how can I? In my head, I know it is a right and good thing to praise God for the good and the bad. Shall we accept only the good and not trouble? (Job) And in my heart, I am grieving. I am unable to summon the joy of the Lord. And even if I were somehow to do so, would it not be a betrayal of my emotions? Should I not allow myself to grieve? What is it about her passing that leaves me empty of joy?
It has been said that we should rejoice at a death (not necessarily the manner of dying) in much the same way as we rejoice in a ship coming back to port. For we know that the passengers are safe and have come home. So too at death does the person finally arrive safely home. And at a birth, we should be sad and anxious just like we are for those leaving on a ship. For we know not what storms and troubles will come their way on their journey and if they will make it safely back home.
How completely contrary we treat the opposite ends of life. Birth is received with joy and death with grief. There's no getting around that. Life is celebrated. And it should be. I wonder, can we understand death as a part of life? That death is not the end but merely a transformation? The body goes into the ground, the soul returns to the Source from whence it came. And where the soul is, there is only goodness and joy and light and no more weeping or sighing or bitter tears. Shouldn't we be happy for that soul? Shouldn't we rejoice over that fact? I don't know.
I believe that we weep here on earth for those left behind. The dearly departed have no more pain, but we do. We weep for ourselves. We also weep because the departed will never experience certain things that we and they wished to. At least, not with us. We feel a keen sense of loss. There's so many things left undone, left unsaid. It pains the heart to know that nothing will be the same again. And so we weep, we mourn, we grieve. Even though we ought to praise God forever and rejoice in Him always, how hard it is to do so.
Lord, help us to be ever mindful of You, even in the midst of the darkness. Even though our hearts are weary and heavy laden with grief and sorrow, let us never forsake praising Your Name, just as you promise never to forsake us. I will sing the praises of the Lord even though my voice and heart break. Amen and amen.
Paul says to rejoice in the Lord always. He even repeats the command-"and again I say, rejoice." The Psalms declare praise of God forever.
I wonder, in the midst of despair, of darkness, of sadness, of heartache and woe, of misery, is it possible to rejoice in Him? Can we praise Him at all times, even when we don't feel like it?
Sure, it's easy to accept the good from the Lord and give thanks unto Him for the many blessings He has bestowed upon us. When we can eat our fill and have fine houses and clothes for our bodies and shoes for our feet, when we are surrounded by family and friends and can fellowship with one another, it's a right and good and easy thing to rejoice in the Lord. It's also easy to forget the Lord too. (Deut 8). Be that as it may, when times are good, it's by far easier to rejoice in the Lord and praise His Name.
Now, on the other side, when we are overcome with grief, with sorrow, with bitter tears, with anger at the unfair taking of life, with thoughts of unspoken words, last memories, things that will never be done, how can we rejoice? If the command is to rejoice always, that means to rejoice at all times. In good and bad. In joy and sorrow. In times of plenty and times of want. Always. Don't rejoice only when you feel like it.
And yet, how can I? In my head, I know it is a right and good thing to praise God for the good and the bad. Shall we accept only the good and not trouble? (Job) And in my heart, I am grieving. I am unable to summon the joy of the Lord. And even if I were somehow to do so, would it not be a betrayal of my emotions? Should I not allow myself to grieve? What is it about her passing that leaves me empty of joy?
It has been said that we should rejoice at a death (not necessarily the manner of dying) in much the same way as we rejoice in a ship coming back to port. For we know that the passengers are safe and have come home. So too at death does the person finally arrive safely home. And at a birth, we should be sad and anxious just like we are for those leaving on a ship. For we know not what storms and troubles will come their way on their journey and if they will make it safely back home.
How completely contrary we treat the opposite ends of life. Birth is received with joy and death with grief. There's no getting around that. Life is celebrated. And it should be. I wonder, can we understand death as a part of life? That death is not the end but merely a transformation? The body goes into the ground, the soul returns to the Source from whence it came. And where the soul is, there is only goodness and joy and light and no more weeping or sighing or bitter tears. Shouldn't we be happy for that soul? Shouldn't we rejoice over that fact? I don't know.
I believe that we weep here on earth for those left behind. The dearly departed have no more pain, but we do. We weep for ourselves. We also weep because the departed will never experience certain things that we and they wished to. At least, not with us. We feel a keen sense of loss. There's so many things left undone, left unsaid. It pains the heart to know that nothing will be the same again. And so we weep, we mourn, we grieve. Even though we ought to praise God forever and rejoice in Him always, how hard it is to do so.
Lord, help us to be ever mindful of You, even in the midst of the darkness. Even though our hearts are weary and heavy laden with grief and sorrow, let us never forsake praising Your Name, just as you promise never to forsake us. I will sing the praises of the Lord even though my voice and heart break. Amen and amen.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Pieces of her life
This is going to be really, really long....Just saying.... :)
For the last few days, I've been over to my father in law's house with my wife and her sister and their brother and his wife and our house mate and my mother in law's sister and we've been going through me mother in law's stuff.
For one, we've been cleaning out refrigerators, yes more than one, and the food pantry. We've had to throw out piles and piles of food. The woman just kept buying more and more food. She had so much, she didn't remember what she had and what she didn't. So food got pushed to the back, and out of sight, out of mind. Oh man, there was stuff that had expired years ago. The record belonged to something that used to be food that expired in 1992. That's the year I graduated highschool. Talk about ancient history.
The housemate and I went through her piles of catalogs. Some people collect stamps or coins or antiques or newspapers or bottlecaps or whatever. She collected catalogs. Of course, it's also very easy to collect catalogs. Buy one thing from one catalog just one time and you'll be inundated with catalogs for life. The thing is, she never threw any of them out. And it wasn't just a matter of picking up a stack of catalogs and dumping them in the trash. No, we had to leaf through each one because interspersed were pieces of mail, receipts, bank statements, etc. The labor was not in vain, however, as my father in law was able to locate a receipt from Wal Mart for some shirts his wife had boughtened him but were too small. So he was able to return them. :D
The women folk, with occasional input from my wife's brother, have been going through the jewelry, taking notes of who wants what with the understanding that nothing was going to leave the house without final approval from the husband. And there was a ton of jewelry. I don't think they're even halfway done yet.
And there's still clothes and books and cosmetics and shoes and so on and so forth.
And what struck me is how intimate a process this is. We're going through her life, in a sense. See what kinds of food she bought. She how she took care of her husband who had gout and therefore certain dietary restrictions. She what kinds of foods she bought for herself because of her diabetes and other health issues. See how she was concerned about being able to feed me kosher foods (not strictly rabbinic kosher, Biblically kosher). And lo, how much we have to throw out. Are we discarding her in a way? Are we relegating her to the trash heap? I prefer to think not. I think she would have liked to clean out her refrigerators and pantry as well. She just never found the time to be able to do so. Still, it's a hard thing to do.
And with going through the catalogs and such, we found scraps of paper with her handwritten notes on them. Recipes, meal plans for birthday dinners, Christmas cookie lists, etc. It's stuff to pull on your heart strings. Yea, how she loved to cook. She often said that she learned to cook in "self-defense." Apparently, her mother, whom I never met, was an awful cook. I mean dreadful. I mean just terrible. Couldn't get a hot meal on the table to save her life. Couldn't manage to get all the various pieces done at the same time. And so me mother in law became a cook out of necessity and by the time I got to know her, her powers were at their height.
I have no interest in my mother in law's jewelry. I wear one piece of jewerly. Just one. My wedding band. But I don't object to me wife and her siblings and her aunt and our house mate going through the jewelry, of which there is a great deal and seeing what pieces catch their eye, or their heart, as the case may be. That's a long, difficult process, and the cause for many tears as people would recall specific instances of her wearing them or remembering occasions associated with them.
Pieces of her life. Little mementos to remember her by. It's not always the big shock of a sudden death that cuts your heart. Sometimes, it's the little things that will be missed. The words of affection, the hugs and kisses, the look and feel of her hair, the scent of her cooking. Periodically, some random thing will call to mind a memory long forgotten. A mother and child sitting together in a restaurant; a beautiful autumn day that calls to mind the tree outside their unit at Trapp; a photograph from a vacation that we took; a handwritten note found tucked away in some book; a song on the radio; a prayer. Such things cut deeply because we can't share them with her. When these things happen, all we have is her memory.
In going through her material possessions and throwing out that which can no longer be used and donating that which can be used but nobody in the fambly wants it's like we're saying goodbye. It will be a long, slow, difficult road. It will be strewn with tears, and sorrow and heartache. But there is also laughter as we remember funny moments, good times, how she loved to laugh, to sing, and to delight in her family.
There is a time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to laugh and a time to cry. And I have felt that the two should not mix. When mourning, mourn. Allow yourself to grieve, deeply. When laughing, laugh, deeply. When dancing, dance with all your might. Still, is not even this sadness tempered with joy? Is not the grief we feel somehow eased by the knowledge that she is with her Lord and Savior? Can we not smile through tears as we recall her goodness, her love, her light? I don't know. I struggle with this daily. I suppose the best thing is to be honest with our feelings. Don't surpress grief or joy because you feel either would be inappropriate.
Who can tell another what to say or how to feel? Who wants to hear, "well, when my mother died, I mourned for a year, and then I moved on." Or, "it's been a year, [a couple years, however long], don't you think it's time to move on?" Stop it! You don't know us! You don't know what we're feeling! How dare you tell us when it's time to move on?
Everybody's grieving process is different. Everybody takes a different amount of time to accept a loss. Not 'get over', accept. I don't think you ever truly get over a loss as deep as this.
May her memory always be for a blessing. May we call to mind the goodness that she shared even as we go through the pieces of her life.
Glory to God in the highest. Let peace descend on us, on all Israel, and all the world, and let us say, amen.
For the last few days, I've been over to my father in law's house with my wife and her sister and their brother and his wife and our house mate and my mother in law's sister and we've been going through me mother in law's stuff.
For one, we've been cleaning out refrigerators, yes more than one, and the food pantry. We've had to throw out piles and piles of food. The woman just kept buying more and more food. She had so much, she didn't remember what she had and what she didn't. So food got pushed to the back, and out of sight, out of mind. Oh man, there was stuff that had expired years ago. The record belonged to something that used to be food that expired in 1992. That's the year I graduated highschool. Talk about ancient history.
The housemate and I went through her piles of catalogs. Some people collect stamps or coins or antiques or newspapers or bottlecaps or whatever. She collected catalogs. Of course, it's also very easy to collect catalogs. Buy one thing from one catalog just one time and you'll be inundated with catalogs for life. The thing is, she never threw any of them out. And it wasn't just a matter of picking up a stack of catalogs and dumping them in the trash. No, we had to leaf through each one because interspersed were pieces of mail, receipts, bank statements, etc. The labor was not in vain, however, as my father in law was able to locate a receipt from Wal Mart for some shirts his wife had boughtened him but were too small. So he was able to return them. :D
The women folk, with occasional input from my wife's brother, have been going through the jewelry, taking notes of who wants what with the understanding that nothing was going to leave the house without final approval from the husband. And there was a ton of jewelry. I don't think they're even halfway done yet.
And there's still clothes and books and cosmetics and shoes and so on and so forth.
And what struck me is how intimate a process this is. We're going through her life, in a sense. See what kinds of food she bought. She how she took care of her husband who had gout and therefore certain dietary restrictions. She what kinds of foods she bought for herself because of her diabetes and other health issues. See how she was concerned about being able to feed me kosher foods (not strictly rabbinic kosher, Biblically kosher). And lo, how much we have to throw out. Are we discarding her in a way? Are we relegating her to the trash heap? I prefer to think not. I think she would have liked to clean out her refrigerators and pantry as well. She just never found the time to be able to do so. Still, it's a hard thing to do.
And with going through the catalogs and such, we found scraps of paper with her handwritten notes on them. Recipes, meal plans for birthday dinners, Christmas cookie lists, etc. It's stuff to pull on your heart strings. Yea, how she loved to cook. She often said that she learned to cook in "self-defense." Apparently, her mother, whom I never met, was an awful cook. I mean dreadful. I mean just terrible. Couldn't get a hot meal on the table to save her life. Couldn't manage to get all the various pieces done at the same time. And so me mother in law became a cook out of necessity and by the time I got to know her, her powers were at their height.
I have no interest in my mother in law's jewelry. I wear one piece of jewerly. Just one. My wedding band. But I don't object to me wife and her siblings and her aunt and our house mate going through the jewelry, of which there is a great deal and seeing what pieces catch their eye, or their heart, as the case may be. That's a long, difficult process, and the cause for many tears as people would recall specific instances of her wearing them or remembering occasions associated with them.
Pieces of her life. Little mementos to remember her by. It's not always the big shock of a sudden death that cuts your heart. Sometimes, it's the little things that will be missed. The words of affection, the hugs and kisses, the look and feel of her hair, the scent of her cooking. Periodically, some random thing will call to mind a memory long forgotten. A mother and child sitting together in a restaurant; a beautiful autumn day that calls to mind the tree outside their unit at Trapp; a photograph from a vacation that we took; a handwritten note found tucked away in some book; a song on the radio; a prayer. Such things cut deeply because we can't share them with her. When these things happen, all we have is her memory.
In going through her material possessions and throwing out that which can no longer be used and donating that which can be used but nobody in the fambly wants it's like we're saying goodbye. It will be a long, slow, difficult road. It will be strewn with tears, and sorrow and heartache. But there is also laughter as we remember funny moments, good times, how she loved to laugh, to sing, and to delight in her family.
There is a time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to laugh and a time to cry. And I have felt that the two should not mix. When mourning, mourn. Allow yourself to grieve, deeply. When laughing, laugh, deeply. When dancing, dance with all your might. Still, is not even this sadness tempered with joy? Is not the grief we feel somehow eased by the knowledge that she is with her Lord and Savior? Can we not smile through tears as we recall her goodness, her love, her light? I don't know. I struggle with this daily. I suppose the best thing is to be honest with our feelings. Don't surpress grief or joy because you feel either would be inappropriate.
Who can tell another what to say or how to feel? Who wants to hear, "well, when my mother died, I mourned for a year, and then I moved on." Or, "it's been a year, [a couple years, however long], don't you think it's time to move on?" Stop it! You don't know us! You don't know what we're feeling! How dare you tell us when it's time to move on?
Everybody's grieving process is different. Everybody takes a different amount of time to accept a loss. Not 'get over', accept. I don't think you ever truly get over a loss as deep as this.
May her memory always be for a blessing. May we call to mind the goodness that she shared even as we go through the pieces of her life.
Glory to God in the highest. Let peace descend on us, on all Israel, and all the world, and let us say, amen.
Monday, February 16, 2009
A Deep Sense of Loss
I feel a deep sense of loss since the mother of my wife passed away this Thursday last.
What a light she was to her family, to me, to her friends, to her neighbors, to strangers, to the church, to the elderly and children, to men and women, to the sick and the homebound. Her love of God and family was closely followed by her love for Scripture. And she knew Scripture better than a lot of priests and pastors and rabbis. Her deep rooted faith as a Christian was grounded in the Bible. I was continually impressed by the breadth and depth of her knowledge of Scripture. Not only did she know a wide variety of subjects, she knew them in depth.
And now, that light is gone. How does one go on? How do I pick up the pieces of my broken heart and carry on? Who will study the Scriptures with me and provide insights and comments and answer questions as only she could?
But more than a love for Scripture, she loved her family. And I feel blessed that she included me in her family. And she showed special love in cooking for her family. In making birthday dinners and Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas dinner and meals for just about any occasion.
And she loved to sew. She made bridesmaid dresses for the women in her family when her son got married. She made her eldest daughter's wedding dress and all the bridesmaid dresses and her own. She had piles and piles of fabric and patterns just waiting to be made.
She loved going to Vermont to the Trapp Family Lodge and just experiencing the peace of God in the mountains. One Shabbat, while retelling of visiting Vermont, she had tears in her eyes.
She loved music. She loved to sing. She delighted in her family playing instruments and singing. What music? Mostly praise music. But really, all kinds. She would even spontaneously burst into song over the slightest provocation.
She had a strong desire to be with her children and arranged her days around their work schedules so that she could spend time with them. Tuesdays, she would often spend time with my wife, who had that day off from work. Now that she's gone, Tuesdays will be hugely empty.
Lord, help me come to terms with my grief. Help me understand why she's gone. How can I fill the void that is in my heart? What solace is to be found in knowing she's with You? She's not here. She's not teaching, singing, laughing, cooking, worshipping here with us. She's all Yours, for eternity. And that's such a long time. Would it have been so terrible to let us keep her a while longer? Why? Why now? You know that she was doing well. You know that her health was good, that her energy was up, that she was feeling great. You know her eye was not dim and her vigor unabated. And yet, You decided to take her. You decided it was time for her to go. I can't understand. Should I be grateful that she didn't suffer? That she didn't have a lingering illness? Should I be grateful she wasn't taken in a car accident or fire or some other horrible means of dying? Is the pain and loss I feel any less severe because she didn't die in any of those ways? No. It is not. There are so many things left undone and unsaid. So many things I wanted to talk with her about. So many things I wanted her to experience. She never became a grandmother. She would have loved that, I know it. And yet, Thou hast robbed her of that opportunity.
How can I bend the knee and bow before You? How can I sing praises to Your Name, O Most High, when I feel such sorrow, such anger, such loss, such pain? How can I call this taking of life just? How is it righteous? How is it fair? "Wherefore hidest Thou Thy Face? Wilt Thou harass a driven leaf?"
Where is the Shepherd? Where is His rod and staff to comfort me? Why can I not see the glory of God manifest in the valley of the shadow of death? Lord, help me. Lord, hear my cry. Out of the depths, I call to You. Be not deaf to my plea for mercy. If only You would fufill Your Word and wipe away every tear. Oh where is Thy comfort?
And yet, I will praise Thee. For I feel she would want that. She would want me to carry on. And so I will offer this doxology, her favorite, in memory of her.
Praise God from Whom all blessings flow.
Praise Him all creatures here below.
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts.
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
Amen.
What a light she was to her family, to me, to her friends, to her neighbors, to strangers, to the church, to the elderly and children, to men and women, to the sick and the homebound. Her love of God and family was closely followed by her love for Scripture. And she knew Scripture better than a lot of priests and pastors and rabbis. Her deep rooted faith as a Christian was grounded in the Bible. I was continually impressed by the breadth and depth of her knowledge of Scripture. Not only did she know a wide variety of subjects, she knew them in depth.
And now, that light is gone. How does one go on? How do I pick up the pieces of my broken heart and carry on? Who will study the Scriptures with me and provide insights and comments and answer questions as only she could?
But more than a love for Scripture, she loved her family. And I feel blessed that she included me in her family. And she showed special love in cooking for her family. In making birthday dinners and Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas dinner and meals for just about any occasion.
And she loved to sew. She made bridesmaid dresses for the women in her family when her son got married. She made her eldest daughter's wedding dress and all the bridesmaid dresses and her own. She had piles and piles of fabric and patterns just waiting to be made.
She loved going to Vermont to the Trapp Family Lodge and just experiencing the peace of God in the mountains. One Shabbat, while retelling of visiting Vermont, she had tears in her eyes.
She loved music. She loved to sing. She delighted in her family playing instruments and singing. What music? Mostly praise music. But really, all kinds. She would even spontaneously burst into song over the slightest provocation.
She had a strong desire to be with her children and arranged her days around their work schedules so that she could spend time with them. Tuesdays, she would often spend time with my wife, who had that day off from work. Now that she's gone, Tuesdays will be hugely empty.
Lord, help me come to terms with my grief. Help me understand why she's gone. How can I fill the void that is in my heart? What solace is to be found in knowing she's with You? She's not here. She's not teaching, singing, laughing, cooking, worshipping here with us. She's all Yours, for eternity. And that's such a long time. Would it have been so terrible to let us keep her a while longer? Why? Why now? You know that she was doing well. You know that her health was good, that her energy was up, that she was feeling great. You know her eye was not dim and her vigor unabated. And yet, You decided to take her. You decided it was time for her to go. I can't understand. Should I be grateful that she didn't suffer? That she didn't have a lingering illness? Should I be grateful she wasn't taken in a car accident or fire or some other horrible means of dying? Is the pain and loss I feel any less severe because she didn't die in any of those ways? No. It is not. There are so many things left undone and unsaid. So many things I wanted to talk with her about. So many things I wanted her to experience. She never became a grandmother. She would have loved that, I know it. And yet, Thou hast robbed her of that opportunity.
How can I bend the knee and bow before You? How can I sing praises to Your Name, O Most High, when I feel such sorrow, such anger, such loss, such pain? How can I call this taking of life just? How is it righteous? How is it fair? "Wherefore hidest Thou Thy Face? Wilt Thou harass a driven leaf?"
Where is the Shepherd? Where is His rod and staff to comfort me? Why can I not see the glory of God manifest in the valley of the shadow of death? Lord, help me. Lord, hear my cry. Out of the depths, I call to You. Be not deaf to my plea for mercy. If only You would fufill Your Word and wipe away every tear. Oh where is Thy comfort?
And yet, I will praise Thee. For I feel she would want that. She would want me to carry on. And so I will offer this doxology, her favorite, in memory of her.
Praise God from Whom all blessings flow.
Praise Him all creatures here below.
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts.
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
Amen.
Friday, February 13, 2009
In loving Memory
May 22, 1944 - February 12, 2009.
And my mother in law's life was sixty years and four years. These were the years of her life. What can I say to express the deep loss I feel? I shall remember the good times we had. The joy, the laughter, the love, the knowledge of Scripture, the passion for teaching, and for me, not least of all, the food. Oh, what wonderful food she always had in her kitchen. No matter who stopped by and when she was ready to offer whatever food she could. And such good food she made! And I will remember one of the last things she did for me was to give me a bowl of split pea soup last night when the wife and I stopped by on a spur of the moment. And she hurriedly finished her dinner to make something for us.
At this time we (her family and I) grieve. Deeply. And yet the Scripture says, "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the Righteous Judge." Righteous?! How? Lord, You took her to Yourself before any of us were ready for her to be taken. You decided it was ok to call her home. Why? Why now? Why when she was feeling well? When she was in good spirits? When her health was good? With so many things left to say and do. You had to take her at this time? Really? This is righteous? This is just? No and a thousand times no. It is unfair. It's not right. And yet Scripture says that "the Lord is perfect and all His ways are just." All His ways. I am having a really hard time reconciling this right now.
For all too brief a time we were given Your daughter. I prefer to remember has the light and the flower-from the Greek and Hebrew names for her. What light? The light of God's Word shining in her life. Not only did she know the Scriptures better than most people I've met, she lived them. Her love for God and His Word and her family was evident in her life. And her favorite flower was Lilly of the Valley. But now the light has darkened, the flower has fallen. Where has it gone? Gone to be with the Lord. Gone from us.
But also gone to a place where is there no more weeping and no more sorrow. No more bitter tears and no more heartache. But especially, no more blood sugar tests. No more diabetes. No more health issues. No more aching muscles. Gone to where it is all joy and goodness and light. Gone to her Lord and Savior, her Creator and God, her Light and her Salvation. Gone on that journey we all must take one day where we will all meet again. And I am thankful for the short time I did get to know her. For the infinite kindnesses she showed me. For the many many meals. For the wonderful gifts on Christmas and birthdays and from places she would vacation to. For Bible studies. For her generosity. For accepting me into her family with loving arms. For her prayers. For inviting me on family vacations.
I thank God that I did get to know this wonderful woman. And I miss her terribly.
Let the glory of God be exalted above all hymns and blessings and adorations that we can utter. May He who creates peace in the high heavens let peace descend on us, on all Israel, and all the world.May the Source of peace send peace to all who mourn and comfort to all who are bereaved, among us and wherever they may be, and let us say, Amen.
And my mother in law's life was sixty years and four years. These were the years of her life. What can I say to express the deep loss I feel? I shall remember the good times we had. The joy, the laughter, the love, the knowledge of Scripture, the passion for teaching, and for me, not least of all, the food. Oh, what wonderful food she always had in her kitchen. No matter who stopped by and when she was ready to offer whatever food she could. And such good food she made! And I will remember one of the last things she did for me was to give me a bowl of split pea soup last night when the wife and I stopped by on a spur of the moment. And she hurriedly finished her dinner to make something for us.
At this time we (her family and I) grieve. Deeply. And yet the Scripture says, "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the Righteous Judge." Righteous?! How? Lord, You took her to Yourself before any of us were ready for her to be taken. You decided it was ok to call her home. Why? Why now? Why when she was feeling well? When she was in good spirits? When her health was good? With so many things left to say and do. You had to take her at this time? Really? This is righteous? This is just? No and a thousand times no. It is unfair. It's not right. And yet Scripture says that "the Lord is perfect and all His ways are just." All His ways. I am having a really hard time reconciling this right now.
For all too brief a time we were given Your daughter. I prefer to remember has the light and the flower-from the Greek and Hebrew names for her. What light? The light of God's Word shining in her life. Not only did she know the Scriptures better than most people I've met, she lived them. Her love for God and His Word and her family was evident in her life. And her favorite flower was Lilly of the Valley. But now the light has darkened, the flower has fallen. Where has it gone? Gone to be with the Lord. Gone from us.
But also gone to a place where is there no more weeping and no more sorrow. No more bitter tears and no more heartache. But especially, no more blood sugar tests. No more diabetes. No more health issues. No more aching muscles. Gone to where it is all joy and goodness and light. Gone to her Lord and Savior, her Creator and God, her Light and her Salvation. Gone on that journey we all must take one day where we will all meet again. And I am thankful for the short time I did get to know her. For the infinite kindnesses she showed me. For the many many meals. For the wonderful gifts on Christmas and birthdays and from places she would vacation to. For Bible studies. For her generosity. For accepting me into her family with loving arms. For her prayers. For inviting me on family vacations.
I thank God that I did get to know this wonderful woman. And I miss her terribly.
Let the glory of God be exalted above all hymns and blessings and adorations that we can utter. May He who creates peace in the high heavens let peace descend on us, on all Israel, and all the world.May the Source of peace send peace to all who mourn and comfort to all who are bereaved, among us and wherever they may be, and let us say, Amen.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Exodus 4:24-26
Tzipporah-daughter of Jethro and wife of Moses. She gave birth to two sons, Gershom and Eliezer. What was her role in assuring that Moses would be able to go to Egypt and lead the Israelites out from bondage? Let's turn to the fourth chapter of the book of Exodus.
The Lord has finished telling Moses to go down to Egypt and that Aaron will go with him. Moses told his father in law that he had to go to Egypt. Jethro wished Moses well. Moses took his wife and sons, put them on a donkey and set off for Egypt.
And it is at this point in the narrative that we get a rather cryptic story. At a lodging place on the way, the LORD met {Moses} and was about to kill him. But Zipporah took a flint knife, cut off her son's foreskin and touched {Moses'} feet with it. "Surely you are a bridegroom of blood to me," she said. So the LORD let him alone. (At that time she said "bridegroom of blood," referring to circumcision.) Exodus 4:24-26
This story raises a lot more questions than it answers.
What lodging place? Not specified. Whom did the Lord meet? The NIV supplies "Moses." The Hebrew (translated) says that the Lord met 'him.' Why would the Lord be about to kill him? Whoever he is? And how was this manifested? Did Moses become suddenly ill?
What did Zipporah do? She circumcised her son's foreskin and touched Moses' feet with it.
Why circumcision? Which son? Why Moses' feet? How would this save Moses' life, assuming it was Moses' life that was in danger? Why wasn't her son circumcised to begin with?
What is the significance of saying "bridegroom of blood"?
And after all that, the Lord left him alone. I have a feeling there's a lot more to this story that the Bible doesn't tell us.
Many commentators suggest that the 'him' refers to Moses. And the Lord was angry with Moses for not circumcising his son. Did Moses know about circumcision? If he didn't, how did Zipporah know? And why was she the one to circumcise her son? Shouldn't Moses have done so? But if Moses was gravely ill, then of course he couldn't have. So Zipporah cut off her son's foreskin and what, touched Moses' feet with it? Is "feet" a euphemism for male genitalia? Rather odd choice of word if you ask me. But what would that mean anyway? So she touch Moses' privates with her son's foreskin? This somehow makes Moses a bridgegroom of blood to her?
However we might understand this passage (or not understand as the case may be), the implication is that Zipporah saved Moses' life. Because of her actions, Moses survived to go down to Egypt and lead the Israelites to freedom. Had it not been for Zipporah, there'd have been no redemption of the Israelites through Moses.
So praise God for Zipporah who saved Moses' life and by extension brought about the redemption of the Israelites from slavery.
The Lord has finished telling Moses to go down to Egypt and that Aaron will go with him. Moses told his father in law that he had to go to Egypt. Jethro wished Moses well. Moses took his wife and sons, put them on a donkey and set off for Egypt.
And it is at this point in the narrative that we get a rather cryptic story. At a lodging place on the way, the LORD met {Moses} and was about to kill him. But Zipporah took a flint knife, cut off her son's foreskin and touched {Moses'} feet with it. "Surely you are a bridegroom of blood to me," she said. So the LORD let him alone. (At that time she said "bridegroom of blood," referring to circumcision.) Exodus 4:24-26
This story raises a lot more questions than it answers.
What lodging place? Not specified. Whom did the Lord meet? The NIV supplies "Moses." The Hebrew (translated) says that the Lord met 'him.' Why would the Lord be about to kill him? Whoever he is? And how was this manifested? Did Moses become suddenly ill?
What did Zipporah do? She circumcised her son's foreskin and touched Moses' feet with it.
Why circumcision? Which son? Why Moses' feet? How would this save Moses' life, assuming it was Moses' life that was in danger? Why wasn't her son circumcised to begin with?
What is the significance of saying "bridegroom of blood"?
And after all that, the Lord left him alone. I have a feeling there's a lot more to this story that the Bible doesn't tell us.
Many commentators suggest that the 'him' refers to Moses. And the Lord was angry with Moses for not circumcising his son. Did Moses know about circumcision? If he didn't, how did Zipporah know? And why was she the one to circumcise her son? Shouldn't Moses have done so? But if Moses was gravely ill, then of course he couldn't have. So Zipporah cut off her son's foreskin and what, touched Moses' feet with it? Is "feet" a euphemism for male genitalia? Rather odd choice of word if you ask me. But what would that mean anyway? So she touch Moses' privates with her son's foreskin? This somehow makes Moses a bridgegroom of blood to her?
However we might understand this passage (or not understand as the case may be), the implication is that Zipporah saved Moses' life. Because of her actions, Moses survived to go down to Egypt and lead the Israelites to freedom. Had it not been for Zipporah, there'd have been no redemption of the Israelites through Moses.
So praise God for Zipporah who saved Moses' life and by extension brought about the redemption of the Israelites from slavery.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Shifrah and Puah
The first women mentioned in the book of Exodus are not Miriam or Jocheved or Tzipporah. Not even the matriarchs (Sarah, Rebekah, Leah and Rachel) are mentioned in the listing of the names at the beginning of this book.
Rather, the women who are mentioned are not anybody nearly as well known (although they should be). They are Hebrew midwives. And their names? Shifrah and Puah. And why are they significant?
When a new king arose in Egypt who did not know Joseph, he decided that the Hebrews presented a threat to his country and imposed harsh labor on them. And more than that, he issued an evil decree that all male babies were to be killed. Whom did he tell this to? The midwives.
Now, midwives were not in a position of political power or strength. They did not tell Pharaoh what to do. Of the classes of people in Egypt, midwives are pretty far down the list. And yet, centuries before Thoreau and Gandhi and Martin Luther King and John Brown and many many others who engaged in "civil disobedience" there was Shifrah and Puah. They had the courage to disobey the mightiest man on the face of the earth. Unlike people who try to escape responsbility by saying they were "just following orders," Shifrah and Puah feared God more than Pharaoh. They followed God's laws and respected life. Now, whether what they told Pharaph about Hebrew women giving birth like animals was true or not, it was endorsed.
And because the midwives feared God, God established households for them.
Praise Adonai for Shifrah and Puah, who feared God rather than man. (Gal 1:10)
Rather, the women who are mentioned are not anybody nearly as well known (although they should be). They are Hebrew midwives. And their names? Shifrah and Puah. And why are they significant?
When a new king arose in Egypt who did not know Joseph, he decided that the Hebrews presented a threat to his country and imposed harsh labor on them. And more than that, he issued an evil decree that all male babies were to be killed. Whom did he tell this to? The midwives.
Now, midwives were not in a position of political power or strength. They did not tell Pharaoh what to do. Of the classes of people in Egypt, midwives are pretty far down the list. And yet, centuries before Thoreau and Gandhi and Martin Luther King and John Brown and many many others who engaged in "civil disobedience" there was Shifrah and Puah. They had the courage to disobey the mightiest man on the face of the earth. Unlike people who try to escape responsbility by saying they were "just following orders," Shifrah and Puah feared God more than Pharaoh. They followed God's laws and respected life. Now, whether what they told Pharaph about Hebrew women giving birth like animals was true or not, it was endorsed.
And because the midwives feared God, God established households for them.
Praise Adonai for Shifrah and Puah, who feared God rather than man. (Gal 1:10)
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