May it be so

 

He was waiting for us out in the hot sun, on the steps into the historic church. We’d asked for a site meeting before Mom’s funeral next week. He explained the history of the wee church. It was the oldest church in San Pedro, and had fallen into disrepair. The homeless had moved in, sheltering there. Something beautiful about that.

But two years ago, whoever owned it decided it was time to give the little church a new lease of life, and so it was sold to the cemetery. They had it moved into its present position, on a green hill overlooking Los Angeles harbor and San Pedro. In moving it, the old, stained-glass windows broke. They were repaired, some technology was installed, air-con put in, and it began to be used as a venue for small celebrations of life.

I was so pleased to find inside such an air of intimacy and reverence. This is a building with history, familiar with deep emotions, with suffering, with sorrow and pain. A place where the word of God can bring solace and comfort. A perfect place in which to celebrate Mom’s extraordinary life.

We went from there to the gravesite. A small, yellow flag, inscribed with Mom’s name, fluttered in the breeze above the headstone bearing Dad’s name, which will soon have her name as well. Preparations for the final resting place for her remains.

It’s a constant tension between the oh, so sad separation death forces upon us, and the oh, so joyful assurance that Mom has moved into real life, light and love. My prayer is that all who come to celebrate her life, and those who might watch the livestream link, will be touched by the presence of the living God and drawn into his kingdom.

That would be a fitting culmination to a life lived trusting in the Lord for everything. Her final act of witness. May it be so.