Death intrudes
My first “official” responsibility in my
new position took place a week or so earlier than schedule, as I
officiated at a memorial service on a sunny, breezy, southern Alberta
Saturday. It was a somewhat strange thing to be leading a service like
this before even attending a Sunday morning service!
Throughout the day, a number of people
expressed appreciation that I had agreed to do this before I had
officially begun. Of course it was no problem, whatsoever, and I was
honoured to do it. Death is no respecter of schedules, after all.
Death always intrudes. A few others remarked—tongue in cheek—that
this was a bit of an ominous beginning for me! Welcomed by death. Or
something like that. I smiled and laughed awkwardly.
As I was silently observing people come
and go from the viewing room, my thoughts, unsurprisingly, turned to
death. It’s impossible to go to a funeral or walk the paths of a
cemetery without pondering the uncomfortable fact that one day this will
be you. We modern westerners can be fairly committed and inventive
death-deniers, but there are always moments when the intruder barges
through the door, and the reality of death is unavoidable.
