Amy planned a reception for friends and family after the burial. Not what I would have done, but again, it was perfect. (Pay attention, people! Learn the lessons along with me, if you haven't learned them before.)
When asked last week... "Are you going to the funeral home on Wednesday morning?
My answer... "I'll let you know Wednesday morning."
"Are you going to the ceremony at the cemetery after the funeral home?"
Me: "I'll let you know after the funeral home."
"How about the reception after the cemetery? You're going, right???"
Me: "I'll let you know after the cemetery."
I had the promise of prayers from steadfast friends. I leaned on those prayers all day - one step at a time - one hour at a time - sometimes one minute at a time. I felt them - palpably - with immense gratitude.
After the ceremony at the grave, I knew I could go to the reception. I was prayed up.
The reception was beautiful - lovely room - pretty tables - a feeling of comfort and elegance. Scott and Crystal were at a table in the corner, so Michael and I joined them there.
There were more friends than I could count - friends of mine - friends of Greg - someone that came to love Greg when he was working on their barn and doing some other projects at their home.
Every person had a kind word and many had stories of Greg that were funny and great to hear. (I'll probably add a couple of them at some point)
For the first time since Greg died, the hours felt like minutes. I never had time to look at a clock. I talked to one person after another until I looked up and the room was almost empty. I didn't expect it to be, but the afternoon was healing.
I loved the sports stories - the stories about Greg's humor - the stories about his kindness. I loved the stories from the 40+ year old "kids" who spent immeasurable time at our house when they really were kids.
Richard and Greg were 15 months apart, so they shared many friends clear through high school. Our house and back yard were always full of laughter and and the sounds of being busy (the never-ending wiffle ball games were my favorite) - and LOTS of kids. At the reception, those "kids" told me how much fun they had there - how welcome they felt - and how they felt loved. They were (and are) easy to love. I'm grateful for their presence in my life - both then - and now.
I'm sure there are things I should have said, but it's been a very long day and I'm exhausted. Time to rest.
On the day of my son's funeral, carried through the day by prayer, God's grace, and the love of friends, I'm shocked to find myself thinking...
"God is good"
When asked last week... "Are you going to the funeral home on Wednesday morning?
My answer... "I'll let you know Wednesday morning."
"Are you going to the ceremony at the cemetery after the funeral home?"
Me: "I'll let you know after the funeral home."
"How about the reception after the cemetery? You're going, right???"
Me: "I'll let you know after the cemetery."
I had the promise of prayers from steadfast friends. I leaned on those prayers all day - one step at a time - one hour at a time - sometimes one minute at a time. I felt them - palpably - with immense gratitude.
After the ceremony at the grave, I knew I could go to the reception. I was prayed up.
The reception was beautiful - lovely room - pretty tables - a feeling of comfort and elegance. Scott and Crystal were at a table in the corner, so Michael and I joined them there.
There were more friends than I could count - friends of mine - friends of Greg - someone that came to love Greg when he was working on their barn and doing some other projects at their home.
Every person had a kind word and many had stories of Greg that were funny and great to hear. (I'll probably add a couple of them at some point)
For the first time since Greg died, the hours felt like minutes. I never had time to look at a clock. I talked to one person after another until I looked up and the room was almost empty. I didn't expect it to be, but the afternoon was healing.
I loved the sports stories - the stories about Greg's humor - the stories about his kindness. I loved the stories from the 40+ year old "kids" who spent immeasurable time at our house when they really were kids.
Richard and Greg were 15 months apart, so they shared many friends clear through high school. Our house and back yard were always full of laughter and and the sounds of being busy (the never-ending wiffle ball games were my favorite) - and LOTS of kids. At the reception, those "kids" told me how much fun they had there - how welcome they felt - and how they felt loved. They were (and are) easy to love. I'm grateful for their presence in my life - both then - and now.
I'm sure there are things I should have said, but it's been a very long day and I'm exhausted. Time to rest.
On the day of my son's funeral, carried through the day by prayer, God's grace, and the love of friends, I'm shocked to find myself thinking...
"God is good"
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