It was a beautiful, warm fall day. The sun was shining as it was also being filtered by thin clouds. It was the kind of day that kept you outside to enjoy the warmth and sunshine and goodness of God. But it was also the day of our friend’s celebration of life service.
He was the kind of man who always had a smile on his face and a “hello” to greet you as he called you by name. He was genuinely grateful to see you. He had the kindest spirit about him – one of compassion for others, one of helping others, and one of gratefulness for what God had given him. Those baby blue eyes seemed to exude this warm spirit.
His service was attended by an overflowing group of family and friends. They filled the sanctuary completely, and they listened to the pastor as he described this kind man, the man we all had known at some time over his 71 years. It was a service of laughter and tears that truly captured who he was.
But what moved me most was the dismissal and walk to the graveside for the final part of the service. If you have never seen this, you have missed the tradition of walking from the church to the cemetery next door. I stood away from the path everyone was using. I watched as the pastor led the pallbearers carrying the casket. The wife, daughter, son, grandchildren, and other family members walked behind the casket. Then the attendees slowly came out of the church to make that walk to the graveside.
It reminded me of how a service is conducted in a rural area, where fields of grain and corn have grown, and at this time of year have seen their season ended. This gentleman’s season on this earth has ended, but I’m sure his arrival in heaven has been glorious. How many have walked the path from the church to the graveside? It’s a tough walk with so many emotions, but it is what we do for our loved ones. It is a walk to send them to a better place.
I knew God was showing me this moment in time for a reason, and I felt His presence so intensely. It was a community joining together to remember and celebrate the man who had moved to heaven. But it was also a community who came together – and will always come together – to surround the family and friends who will miss him dearly.
The word “community” means a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals”. (Dictionary.com). This community is key to our lives here on earth. In the “olden days” on the farm and in the very rural areas around our country, the neighbors – the community – always came together at the church. It was the focal point for celebrations, support, life decisions, making new friends, and more.
These communities always came together for anyone in need – a barn raising, a meal together when supplies were running low, a Sunday afternoon visit, a dinner to share with friends, a time to share heavy burdens around the wood pile.
I pray that you belong to a “community”. I don’t believe the image of the community walking to the grave side will ever leave me. I pray it will not because that is an image that will always show me what God’s community of believers looks like.
Thanks for stopping by,
Rachel
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