Celebrations of Life . . .

The day begins with a cold, grey mist - fog so cold that it bites through my uniform shoes. The only thing missing is the rain and black umbrellas. The green awning over the open grave covers the five chairs for the private inurnment service - which are filled and end up with 60 people standing behind the family.

I remind them of the cliche portion of scripture in Ecclesiastes where it says there is a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance . . . It really is cliche but it is so important to remember that it is OKAY to weep and mourn (that's how it's supposed to be) and it is also OKAY to feel happiness and enjoy life. Sometimes we feel guilty and selfish doing so but we shouldn't . . . that's how it is supposed to be.

the next lines, though, were good for this particular service. YOu see, Carrie - carried rocks in her pockets. Her mom told her, as a child, that if she carried rocks in her pockets they would become polished. You can imagine where I went with that . . . (she also carried marbles and pennies because if she lost her marbles, she still had her sense/cents with her . . .how funny!). I had a basket of rocks and everyone was invited to come and get a rock and leave it at the gravesite - or take it with them. (Interestingly enough, everyone took theirs.)

I join them at the customary family lunch - and leave early to go back to the corps. When I walk in, I'm greeted by balloons and bears - a sign of the celebration about to take place in the gym - a baby shower for a young teenage mom in our corps. There is giggling going on, punch being made, cake and food being set out, and women are arriving with presents that shout out the excitement that comes with new life.

Mixing in with those guests - and some guests who plan to go to both - are the ones who have come for the memorial service - which starts an hour later. The food has been brought, prepared, readied - the chairs are packed into the corps - and they keep coming . . .more and more people.

She grew up in this area - and the people have come from all over - family from other states, friends from high school, parents who had kids in Cubs Scouts with her son and saw it in the obituary section, church family, party friends - they all knew her and had something to say about her.

Afterwards, the reception - there's always the reception. Funeral receptions are the most interesting. I've been to several in my family and I must admit - I love them. You see family - and you realize that you are part of something - even when you don't keep in touch on a daily basis, you have a tie that can't be broken. You meet up with cousins and make a renewed determination to keep in touch. You hug friends who leave quickly, knowing that they will be there for you in a few days when all the excitement dies down. The family is always in a little bit of a daze and I walk around with water, punch, and coffee and keep filling up cups - wondering how each of these people knows the dearly departed, but not really having the time to ask.

When everyone disappears, we clear the tables, moves the dishes to the kitchen, and finally get ready to go. I leave the family who has gathered (again) in the back of the chapel to watch family movies ad nauseum - I hear that Uncle Dud has hours and hours of it - and they are all eager to watch. Again, it's the common bond that can't be so easily broken with a death. In fact, it just becomes stronger.

And that, after all, is how it's supposed to be.