And That is Dying in the Lord

I am in a dark hotel room.  It is cold outside, windy, and grey.  I am a long way from home, here to do a funeral of one of my dearest friends.  It is a great burden, an honor you are given regretfully, for it means the passing on of someone you loved.  I looked out the window and saw the wind was up.  It will be bitter at the graveside.  But bitter to us alone.  He is remade into a wonderful being, whole and forever, perfectly alive.   My dad often used this in funerals.  I will too.  

I am standing on the seashore.  A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength and I stand and watch her until at length she is only a ribbon of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.  Then someone at my side says:

“There!  She’s gone!”

Gone – where?  Gone from my sight – that is all.  She is just as large in mast and hull as she was when she left my side and just as able to bear her load of living freight – to the place of destination.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her, and just at the moment when someone at my side says:  “There!  She’s gone!”  Other voices are ready to take up the glad shout “Here, she comes!”

And that is dying in the Lord.  Author unknown

I am following the casket and my son Aaron
is back right.