Two funerals in two days…sigh…

Strangely, or maybe not so strangely, the most difficult part of my week was having to tell Zion, our 6 year old, that Ann Mary died.  We had been praying for her for a long time.  When I told him, he looked at me as if to say,

that blasted cancer won again?

That was the most difficult part for me.

Yes the visitations were difficult.  Watching Randy speak and their children sit beside him was tough to see.  But it is healthy to be contemplative.  It is good to go where life is thick sometimes.  At those visitations and funerals, people are thinking of life.  And death.  And cancer.  And heaven.  Real stuff.

No one is wondering how the Toronto Maple Leafs are going to do this season.  No one is wondering about their mortgage payment or what next weeks meeting is going to hold.

I was honoured to play at the funerals.  I think both were fitting and life-honouring.  A high complement.

Today at Harry’s funeral, Harry and Rose’s son Jonathan read a poem.  It was honest.  It was dark.  It was raw.  I loved it.  I spoke to him afterwards and told him that I loved it because sometimes we need to praise and sometimes we need to lament. 

I once wrote on this blog that those who suffer, sometimes need to hear the groans, and other times need to hear the gospel.

I am realizing that the groans are the gospel.