A year ago
(almost to the day)
was this selfsame spot shaded
‘neath the shelter of a tent
where a small blend of kin and friend
held a send-off celebration for one of their own.
The group was small;
not for lack of love, but
for lack of survivors.
Children of friends and siblings
(who, but for their parents’ acquaintance,
never would have crossed ways)
paid their respects and wept alongside the elders.
The lone member present from the next generation,
feeling too young to bear this grief,
had visited the dearly departed
right before the end.
Not really knowing how to offer comfort,
she was almost afraid to go,
for how could she ever comprehend the impending loss
of a wife of sixty-three years?
She had no words to bring.
Only song.
Beloved hymns of the faith
breathing life and truth into the room
where bodily death would come
the next day.
He closed his eyes and nodded
as she prayed for the strength of voice
to keep herself from weeping for him.
He asked her to sing at the graveside service.
One or two worshipful verses of His greatness
to bring truth to the hearts
of the mourners.
How great Thou art, O Lord,
Who hast kept me until now
and gifted me with a voice
to make melody unto Thee in times of sorrow.
Thou hast changed my heart of stone
for one of flesh,
that I might serve those who lament
with Thy sweet grace
and aid their rememb’rance of Thy mercies.
Abba, in Thy goodness Thou hast relieved the pain
of those whom Thou carried to Thy bosom.
Now renew Thy strength in my weakness,
and uphold my thin voice
as it serves to comfort them once again.
For though I have borne the weighty affliction
of five funerals in a year,
Thou hast borne all of my sins and their wages;
Thou alone canst sustain me.
Beautiful
Indeed, beautiful.