Minutes to Memories

Our pool has an algae problem. Our computer, like Cousin Eddie's boy on Christmas Vacation, has a problem we haven't identified just yet.

But enough happy news... Hillary and I went to a funeral last night.

The father of a friend passed away last Friday after a long battle with cancer. I had planned to go to the funeral myself, but I thought it was so sweet when Hillary (who has been friends with one of our friend's sons practically her whole life) announced that she wanted to go, too: she said she just "felt like she ought to." My little girl is becoming a little lady.

I rarely have the chance to sit in the audience at a funeral and think anymore; I'm usually the cat up front having to struggle to find the right words. So as I sat there, with time to think, a couple of thoughts bounced back and forth in my brain like a tennis match.

1. Isn't it just odd that, after an entire life, we signal it's end by allowing someone to stand up and talk for twenty minutes or so? I find that sad, especially since I'm often that person. I mean, this is the most significant event in the universe - the passing of a life - and we dress up, listen to a little talk, and go home. This is no way does justice to what has happened, but what else could we do?
2. Since this funeral was at the church building of a different Christian denomination, I listened closely to notice the differences in messages I might deliver, but I was somewhat surprised to think that the message was the same. I began to think that the message was not only the same in that room, but it is pretty much the same across all flavors of Christianity - and even I'm sure across other religious faiths. Here's the message: There's just got to be something more - and better - than this life. Combined with my other recurring thought, it cannot just end with a shell of a life sitting in front of a man wearing a suit who sums up this life in twenty minutes. There must be something more. This is our collective hope.

Life moves on today. A family still grieves, and from personal experience I know that they always will. Yet time really will help, and life will move on.

But the deeper questions remain...