Recently, the brother of a Mount sister
died unexpectedly, and the way the community responded was instructive.
Although the wake on Monday night and the funeral on Tuesday morning took place
in a town two hours away, three carloads of sisters traveled to the wake and two
carloads traveled to the funeral. Providing support and comfort to a sister and
her family far outweighed any concerns of distance, time, or inconvenience.
As with all the corporal and spiritual
works of mercy, presence is key. Sometimes we feel like we don’t have any words of
comfort to offer those who are grieving. However, by simply showing up, we
reveal God’s presence and compassion, and often we experience an affirmation of
God’s presence ourselves. To those of us traveling to the funeral, this affirmation happened in a dramatic
fashion when a “sun dog”—a small, vertical rainbow
to the side of the sun—appeared in the sky. It was breathtaking, and we wouldn’t
have seen it if we hadn’t made the trip.
The occasion reminded me of the ending
of the poem Let Evening Come by Jane
Kenyon, in which the word “evening” could easily be a stand in for “death”:
Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us comfortless, so let evening come.
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