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The wrong funeral

They say there are no mistakes, for everything there is a purpose. Makes you think. Enjoy!

We’ll never know where our paths will takes us! This is really beautiful … God is not sleeping.

Consumed by my loss, I didn’t notice the hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend – my mother.

She finally had lost her battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense; I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held box od tissues while listening to muy first heartbreak, comforted me at my father’s death, encourage me in college, and prayed for me my entire life.

When mother’s illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart,so it fell on me, the 27-year old middle child without entanglements, to take care of her. I counted it an honour. What now, Lord? I asked sitting in church.

My entire life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face towards the cross while clutching his wife’s hand. My sister sat slumped against het husband’s shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child. All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone.

My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone. I heard a door open and slum shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor.

An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed the map on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle. I’m late, he explained, though no explanation was necessary.

After several eulogies, he learned over and commented, Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of Margaret?

Because that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary, no-one ever one called her Mary, I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn’t have sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Whos was this anyway?

No, that isn’t correct, he insisted, as several people glanced at us whispering, Her name is Mary, Mary Peters.

That isn’t who this is.

Isn’t this the Lutheran church?

No, the Lutheran church is across the street.

Oh,

I believe you’re at the wrong funeral, Sir.

The solemness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man’s mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs.

The creaking pew give away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem  more hilarious.

I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He was laughing, too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing.

At the final, ‘Amen’ we darted out a door and into the parking lot. ” I do believe we’ll be talk of the town, he smiled” He said his name was Rick end since he had missed his aunt’s funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee.

That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year after meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time.

In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June, we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, Her mother and aunt Mary introduced us, and it’s truly a match in heaven.

Yes, I do Love God. He is my source of existence and Saviour.

He keeps me functioning each and everyday.