Of What Will I Speak and Write?

Steeped in years of reverence and prayer, the petite chapel was effused with a hushed quality. Hands linked, we stood silently viewing the perfectly matched flowers and sweetly smiling photograph – a simple tribute to a mom now beyond the reach of physical pain.

The ceremony was an intimate gathering of family and friends. Feeling the resonance of energy amongst our close circle, I stole a glance at my precious friend’s face, so calm, yet pale with eyes wracked by grief. Wishing I could say something, anything to ease the anguish of her loss I focused on the minister’s voice. Surely, he would offer knowledge that might be comforting in the instance of a death. In fairness, I found his delivery interesting, with an easy-to-comprehend euphemism, followed by a point that hit home rather sweetly.

He described a wise gentleman close to death, painting the scene by comparing our existence here on earth, to life on one side of a beautiful riverbank. Understanding the veil of death to be signified as the river itself, life after the death experience was likened to existence on the far bank of this body of water.

High above the ministers’ head hung a lovely piece of artwork. It was a stained-glass motif depicting a landscape awash with color yet exuding a gentle tranquility, in perfect orchestration to his tale. The sun peeking between the leaves, served to highlight the central focus, a narrow body of water, flanked on each side by banks heavy laden with flowers and trees. With a voice modulated to a soft yet firm timber, he paused before delivering the final sentence:

‘When asked of this wise gentleman, was he in fear of his imminent death, he calmly replied ‘No, for I know who owns the land on both sides of the river.’

Hm… ok, well done. I too comprehend who owns the land on ‘both sides of the river’. And while this concept alone should provide solace, death causes immense apprehension for most individuals. Why? As if he was privy to my musings, the minister attempted an exploration, lighting upon various reasons:

Fear of pain
Fear of the unknown

Thus far, I agreed, reflecting that many associate death with pain. I’ve often heard expressions such as, ‘It’s not the dying I mind; I just want it to be quick and painless!’ Or, ‘I hope I die in my sleep so it doesn’t hurt!’

I re-focused on the sermon as he provided a third reason:

*Fear of reprisal

As my friend’s beautiful daughter leaned against her boyfriends shoulder, softly weeping for the grandmom to whom she would no longer sing, the minister endeavored to provide that modicum of solace for which we were all so desperately searching.

‘Being a good Christian woman, the deceased mother for whom we gather is safe in the arms of Jesus!’ (Amen!) ‘She will be quite busy in her new position on the ‘far side of the bank’, for we are not idle after death!’ (Warming to his sermon) 'We spend an eternity worshiping our master, singing his praises and assisting the angels.’ After a pregnant pause here, during which he took careful stock of the attendees, he assured them, ‘If this deceased lady’s relatives and husband had been Christians while on this earth, then they too are in the presence of God and therefore, were in attendance to greet her at the moment she crossed that ‘river’ to the ‘far bank’…

(Screeeeeching halt!!! WHAAAT did he just say?!?!?! Were these the pearls of wisdom from which I hoped to draw knowledge to comfort those in the throes of grief?!?) My mind raced as I thought of the many whom hold a belief in a higher being, their lives full of service and prayer, yet not falling within the guidelines of ‘Christian’, according to this minister’s definition. I contemplated this family gathered in a united ache, missing the presence of one adored member. With photos the only tangible and loving memories the one connection, they held to an elusive hope. Desiring only the best, they wished her beyond the reach of pain and enjoying a blissful peace, wrapped in the bosom of the holy one, as well as dearly remembered family, friends and pets long departed from this place.

The minister’s voice receded to the background in my head, as these thoughts merged one to another, eventually rolling back through the years to connect with a memory of my husband and I traveling south one gorgeous September morning....

Loping along towards the mountains of Tennessee, I recalled listening to the radio with the windows down, relaxed and adrift, my senses awashed in the crisp fall day. Suddenly my vision was distracted by the sight of enormous white signs with bold black lettering, way up in the mountains amongst the trees, separated by just enough breath and distance to allow the conceptual thoughts to penetrate subliminally…

“The end is coming!!!”

Huh??

(a bit further...) “Are you ready?!?!”

Are we crazy???

(a third sign a few seconds later, strategically placed a mile further along - we were a drive by captive audience!) “Your death is near and YOU are a sinner!!!”…. “Have you been saved?!?!”…

Yikes!

(and then...) “Judgement day is at hand!” “Who is your true master?!?!” “Satan or Jesus?!?!”

Hmmm, this seems like a good time to hit the brake and turn this puppy around… or at least put it in park while we contemplate whether we should proceed down this road – no pun intended!

My husband, wonderfully adrift in reverie, proceeded forward, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the strains of a 70’s tune. Riveted in the passenger seat I filtered a myriad of emotions, from disbelief to shock, frustration to humor, all eventually culminating in just plain sad. There, in the space of a moment, the beauty of the day receded, while saturated by the sheer magnitude of humans who held a distorted view of the divine due to the misguided teachings of man. From the small towns to larger cities, states, countries even whole continents…conceptual waves rolled over me and back on themselves, pooling energetic forces to a greater swell followed by release again and again…. …years upon years, all those living and dying in fear…

So, of what will I speak and write? Exploration and fortitude…a treatise to adventure and the responsibility of free will… the birth of a quest then the journey…finding your personal compass… hesitatingly taking one step forward and two steps back, unsure yet slowly drawn closer to the abyss…searching within for that wellspring of courage to leap. The shaky hesitation, then that last deep breath, and you’re off…up into the clouds, beyond the mountains, and heading towards the stars… realizing you trade the known confines of a smaller vision which now fits like a poorly measured suit, for the magnificence of a loving boundless one… it feels right…and you’re not alone.