Thank you for coming here

I attended the viewing of a young man who had been in a Sunday School class when my hubby and I were the teachers. 

He had been one of the less-active members of the class. I remember one of his parents telling me that he really liked brownies. So I took him brownies one Sunday after he'd missed class. 

He wasn't really involved when he was in class, and he would sit hunched over and look at the floor most of the time. 

When I heard he had passed I was very very sad. He died from suicide at age 20. 

I walked across the street to the chapel where the funeral would be starting in less than 30 minutes. His mom and dad (step-dad) were there. They had divorced since I last saw the family.

I remember talking to his dad once about the life choices that his teenagers were making. I remember his comment, "You can do everything 'right,' but..." He trailed off and left the thought there. 

When I walked into the room where the casket was I felt a sense of foreboding. Then I saw his parents and real, live actual people that i knew and recognized and I felt better. I got in the line leading up to the casket. 

And then it was my turn.

I looked at his youthful, soft face.

It was still round with baby fat.

He looked so peaceful. Different.

He looked so little. 

His mom stood nearby. I walk to her and said, "You have a beautiful, beautiful boy."

She gave me a bug hug and said, "Thank you for coming here."

I don't know why but the "here" caught me and seemed to linger in the air.

Thank you for coming. Here. 

Like she was going to give me something.

Or like I had come so far out of my way to be with this group, when I had only just walked across the street.

But I still think of it. Thank you for coming...here.

To this place. Where I am. Where we are. Where he was. We will be here for a while. Maybe a very, very long time. This is a very different place than where you are, where you live. You're lucky. We are lucky you are here.

After that I went home to be with my children and family. I was more grateful than ever that they were there.

I have been to funerals, and very sad ones, for children, mothers, young people who had many years ahead of them. 

But I was very very grateful that I went...there. And not because I felt like I had done anything great. But because I knew that was where I needed to go that day. Where someone else was. 

"It may not be on the mountain height, or over the stormy sea.

It may not be at the battle's front my Lord will have need of me.

But if by a still, small voice he calls to paths that I do not know,

I'll answer dear Lord with my hand in thine, 

I'll go where you want me to go."

This is where I have often gone...to where it may feel foreboding, dark, and sad. I find that when I am called, or when I take the opportunity to go, those feelings are always flooded out by the feeling of connection, gratitude, and grace. 

"I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord,

Over mountain or plain or sea

I'll say what you want me to say, dear Lord,

I'll be what you want me to be."

(Written 11/13/2022)