June 8, 2011

I went to a funeral.

It was a really nice tribute to my neighbor who passed away.

They played Depeche Mode.

There were picture slideshows that showed the span of her thirty-four year life.

A woman with a beautiful voice sang two songs about going home.

A preacher preached.

And the mother of this young woman spoke words that stirred my spirit.

Her words were passionate and pulled at my heartstrings.

I can not imagine losing a child.

The fact that she was able to pull herself together and thank those in attendance for their support, love, and encouragement amazed me. 

She shared her most beautiful vision of what happened when her daughter left this world and entered the heavens above--the hug she surely received from her earthly daddy who died a year and a half ago. . .the words she spoke as she eagerly sought her Heavenly Father who freed her from her earthly pain.  

She painted such a touching picture of the heaven I believe in.

This mother, who lost her daughter spoke from her heart.

She spoke of the daily blessings and prayers answered that occurred--showing her that God did in fact have his hand in this all along. 

He enabled her to put on her game face to encourage and support her daughter to fight on.  

She graciously accepts God's will for her daughter.

There was something said about the ministry that occurred as a result of my neighbor's suffering.  

In sickness, she was still ministering to those around her--sharing her faith and hope and love.
That got me thinking.

In her illness I offered to serve more often.

I offered more of myself because I knew they were in need.

Her illness made me more aware of the struggles that occur in families where a parent or child is sick.

Her illness made me take a look at myself and do more than just offer because I realized sometimes people don't want to or don't know how to ask for help.

Her illness made me learn a little bit more about myself.

At dinner tonight, sitting at our table with the shutters open looking out to their empty house he said, "It's just so sad to think she is never coming home. We won't see her turning the corner driving her white van." 

We never thought she wouldn't come home.
We never know, do we?