(Originally posted 5/15/2012
“Hell begins on the day when God grants us a clear vision of all that we might have achieved, of all the gifts which we have wasted, of all that we might have done which we did not do” Gian Carlo Menotti
In January of 1994 my mother died of heart disease. Eight months later, my father died of cancer. Because they hadn’t belonged to a church, their funerals were what I would call generic, with a minister provided by the funeral parlor.
Prior to my mother’s wake, the minister gathered together all twenty of us kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. He asked us to tell him something about this woman he’d be eulogizing the next day. He wanted to be able to relate some happy memories of my mother at her funeral. In complete silence, we looked at each other, incredulous, thinking, “Come on, somebody. Come up with something!” Digging into the recesses of our minds, we slogged through the anger and the sorrow, trying desperately to recall a long-forgotten quip or enlightening conversation, maybe a silly habit, a favorite joke, one special Christmas tradition, or what about that time when…?
At the end of my mother’s life, her family had absolutely nothing to say about her. Well, nothing you would say at a funeral – you think it, but you don’t say it. The minister, quickly seeing that there’d be no wealth of joyful material from which to draw his comments, politely excused himself to go hunt up some old familiar one-size-fits-all sermon. That experience left me numb.
My father’s death that autumn was like suffering through a bad movie for the second time: same cast of characters, same setting, same faulty plot line. Again, the twenty of us couldn’t come up with a thing. The silence was deafening – and, yes, I was angry. I wanted to shout, “How could the two of you do this? How could you inhabit this earth for more than seventy years, at the epicenter of a family you supposedly loved, and not leave behind even the faintest happy memory? How could you journey through your lives without touching anyone else’s?”
I hadn’t expected this level of grief. I didn’t understand it. How could I grieve for the parents who had left me nothing to miss? Eventually, though, I came to see that what I was grieving was the absence of love. All my life, I longed for my parents’ love, but I had just been fooling myself. And now…that longing would remain unfulfilled.
Those two impersonal funerals, and my indignant response to them, proved pivotal to the changes in my life that would follow. I was inspired to set two goals that I might otherwise have shrugged off: To seek the love that would draw me closer to God, and to share that love with others, especially my family. I wanted to make sure that I’d have a different funeral someday, and a different legacy, than either of my parents. I wanted to be remembered as someone who had loved, someone who had honestly and openly confessed to others when I’d failed or fallen short, someone who had needed and known God’s mercy. And I wanted everyone who attended my funeral to have a smile on his face! – a smile that reflected the joy we’d shared, the compassion we’d known, the forgiveness we’d received, and the love we’d never doubted.
As Scripture tells us, “…if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.” (Matthew 17:20)
After determining my two goals and reviewing my life accordingly, I could see that a mountain would indeed have to be moved. And, in all honesty, I also felt that it would be impossible!
That was fifteen years ago, and I can tell you with absolute conviction that, not only is it NOT impossible, it is certain; it is God’s promise to us and it will be fulfilled by Him! He simply needs our mustard seed, shaky knees, sweaty palms “okay, I’ll give it a try” response – with no assurance of the process – simply the faith to trust. The outcome is not ours to know. However, it is God’s already set in place plan if we’re willing to cooperate with Him..
Perhaps, unlike everyone else in all of creation, you somehow are privy to the date and time of your demise. Even then, you may, or may not, have LOTS of time to fix all the messes you have made in your life and the lives of everyone around you. Otherwise, it’s probably not a good idea to procrastinate on this one.