In a little white church called Hope in a country town nestled along the winding Delaware River, I experienced a beautiful moment ... possibly one of the most lovely, even in spite of its deep sadness. Dear Spouse stood on the tiny platform surrounded by flowers in honor of his sister's memory, the landscape of color trimmed by the glow of the sun through stained glass windows. Intermingled throughout the flowers were photos of Joyce from her childhood, and from her life as a mother, wife, and sister.
With his voice husky, and succumbing at times to emotion, Spouse gave tribute to his sister. A photo of them as children was adjacent to his elbow as he spoke of their painful childhood and her many years of suffering, bedridden, with multiple sclerosis. It was as if Spouse wrapped up all the suffering in a package of God's grace, and laid it on an altar, giving God all the glory for His faithfulness to them through the years. There was a deep sense of God's presence in the stillness of those moments––his quiet voice interrupted only by sounds of sniffling from the pews. The prayers of those praying for this time were almost tangible as God met us and intertwined dear Spouse's words with those that followed from the 86 year-old minister's message on suffering.
There is good and bad to small town living. But when a time like this comes along––when you are surrounded by people who have watched you grow up and remember it all, and you can tell the story of God's role as a loving Father to you, well then, yes, it is a very beautiful moment. As indeed this was.
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That brings back so many memories for me and Don. I had begun to feel that the hometown that I had known for so long had slipped away, but it showed up for his service...friends from elementary school, neighbors, business people, many, many people who shared that day.
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