Scoop

New Orleans - Crypt

I’m not a big fan of funerals, but then again, who is? Friday morning, I found myself at Faith Wesleyan Church for the funeral of Ruby Gormong. She was the grandmother of one of my best friends, Jeff Gormong. I sat near the back with another favorite traveling companion and friend, Jack the Fox. Somewhere in the middle of the songs they were singing at the funeral this image hit me. This image thing happens every now and then. Call it a spiritual thing, a distinct impression, an overactive creative gland, ADD, whatever. Anyway, it was the image of a person scooping a child from a crib, as if moving them from one place to another, from aloneness to a place of safety and comfort. There was some kind of calmness once the child was taken up, and why not? There is safety in the arms of a parent. It reminded me of a conversation a few years earlier . . .

Atlanta. I was at a gathering with some cousins, aunts, and uncles, which I had not seen in several years. Sitting on my Cousin Rob’s back porch, he said, “Yea, sometime we would like to move back to Delaware.” Delaware? Who says that? I’m thinking “Rob. Dude. You are an executive at a Coca-Cola in Atlanta (one of the fastest growing parts of the country). You have a great house, fine cars, beautiful family, and good friends. Why would you trade all that in?” I phrased my thoughts in a more acceptable form. “Delaware. Really? Why?” Then it came. The scoop. “Well,” says Rob, “Delaware is home. There are times when you just want to be home. When you just want to go back to the house you grew up in, lay on the couch with your head in your Mom’s lap and let her rub your head so that you know that everything will be alright.”

Isn’t that what we really want some days? To just be scooped up and know that everything is going to be OK? I think heaven may be just like that.

Ruby Gormong. 87 years old. I barely knew you, but I heard the stories. You were active until the day you were scooped away. You mowed your own grass, did your own shopping, lived your own life and loved just about everyone. I remember first meeting you. You were younger then, 85 or so. You were stunningly beautiful. I’m sure that you had challenges. I wonder if you sometime wanted to be lifted away, put your head on someone’s lap just to know that everything would be alright. I wonder if you are doing that now.

There is a couch somewhere for us all. Maybe it is in Delaware. Maybe next door. Maybe in the next room. Maybe in the next life. There we find hands bigger than ours, and lap for us to lay our head. Maybe for a brief moment. Maybe for eternity.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Matthew 11:28 (Msg)

[tags]death, funeral, grave, heaven, God, grief[/tags]

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