Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!
But if Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness.
April 10, 2010, marked one year since my mother died. Unlike last year, it fell after Holy Week and it was also a Saturday. (She died on Good Friday of 2009).
My wife, two of my sisters and my niece and her brood all visited the cemetery and after some time of standing around and reflecting, we held a brief commemoration service.
Linda, my wife, and I headed home since I had an afternoon worship service. It was a solemn ride.
It was good to get together as a family and remember. One of Mom’s chief concerns was that we remain united as a family. There has been some fragmentation over the course of the past 12 months, but I’m hoping that is a consequence of the grief that some of my siblings have still not resolved. Relationships have been strained at times. However, I sense they are getting better.
I have no poem with which to close. But I am glad to have made this entry. It has been a while.
I still miss my mother. I guess that’s something one never stops doing.
Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say there is no resurrection of dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and our faith has been in vain.
I Corinthians 14:12—14
Today, June 10, 2009, marks two months since my mother’s death. Obviously today was a difficult day. It was made even more difficult by the fact that I received a confirmation letter today that my ministry is being discontinued effective the 16th of June. The sense of loss is overwhelming.
There are other issues. One of my sisters has stopped talking to me—for what reason, I don’t know. I have called her several times but she doesn’t return the calls. I know she is grieving, but so are all of us. The reason for her silence is somewhat baffling. I try not to dwell on it, but it is difficult, especially on days like today.
I found another Emily Dickinson poem that I’m including here. It’s from a collection entitled Time and Eternity. The poem is “The Last Night that She Lived”
The last night that she lived,
It was a common night,
Except the dying; this to us
Made Nature different
We noticed smallest things,–
Things overlooked before,
By this great light upon our minds
Italicized, as t’were.
That others could exist
While she must finish quite,
A jealousy for her arose
So nearly infinite.
We waited while she passed;
It was a narrow time,
Too jostled were our souls to speak,
At length the notice came.
She mentioned, and forgot;
Then lightly as a reed
Bent to the water, shivered, scarce,
Consented, and was dead.
And we, we placed the hair,
And drew the head erect;
And then an awful leisure was,
Our faith to regulate.