This morning, sitting in church with my arm around my wife, I felt her stiffen up and begin looking nervous. I bent my head to her ear and asked; “What’s wrong?” “Wasp!” was her reply. I looked at the window behind us and there was the feared insect. My wife is allergic to any kind of sting and we did not have her Epi-pen. We hoped it would stay there and turned our attention back to the preacher. A few moments later the insect flew between us and landed on the top of a pew about 10 feet away. The woman sitting in front of us and directly behind the wasp saw it, took out a hymnal, and; “Whack!” No more bug, no more danger. We both breathed a sigh of relief.
Reflecting on the wasp’s last flight I am reminded that no matter the place or the time there is always and everywhere a danger lurking. Maybe it’s a sense of unworthiness, a reminder of a loved one gone too soon, a habit, a hurt, a hangup. We must be aware and empowered realizing we are not helpless. There is a difference between living life scared and living it vigilantly. Freedom comes from knowing your enemy not from having no enemies. The difference makes all the difference.
Today I had the privilege and duty to be a part of the memorial service for my father. It’s been surreal the last few days. So many errands to run, items to check off on a list, places to go, people to see. There’s been a sense of urgency, a nervous energy, a controlled chaos, riding a wave of sorrow and speed. Because of the hectic pace of the last several days, I stood on the stage behind the pulpit at the service this afternoon with no notes, and no structure to the stories and experiences I wanted to share.
Words, they’ve flooded my mind and soul since Dad passed. Words from family and friends who care and are sorry for our loss. Words that go into an obituary, on a card for flowers, in a service program and used in phone calls, emails, and texts. So many words used to describe the love a family has for one who is, was, the central fixed, point.
Now, standing behind the pulpit at the memorial service today, I had no notes, no words written, no solid ideas, memories swarming in my head but none coming in for a landing. How do you choose the right words to convey the meaning of a life which impacted many people? In the pantheon of phrases, how do you pick out those which will express the purpose of a life lived well?
A deep breath, a small prayer, and … share my heart, open my lips, loosen my tongue and let the words come. No, they will not be adequate. No, they will not be perfect. Yes, there will be second-guessing and memories that are forgotten to be shared.
Words. They are not, and cannot contain the heart’s cry of longing and loneliness or succinctly express the fondness, the love, the good of being apart from a person you love. This is okay. Living, being, existing, is more than words, deeper than condolences, greater than expressions of sympathy and sadness.
Living should be beyond our ability to communicate it easily if it is done well.