Our Numbered Days
Attending a funeral is a great reminder of the reality of just how mortal we are, which is very. Our days are numbered and it has been said that the remembrance of this is a good thing.
Last Friday, the kids and I drove to St. Louis of France Catholic Church, a good 30 minutes away. This is the church where my parents were married and was my father's family parish fo many years. We were a bit late to the funeral Mass of a dear family friend known to me as Aunt Connie who had reposed earlier in the week. I was glad to be there and glad to give Basil the experience. As we drove from the church to the cemetary, the questions began. What happens to the body? Why do we bury it? Who does it? Do they take the body apart? Where is she? Words like casket, soul, resurrection, incorruption, digging, bones, prayers, and angels were flowing. I was glad to have answers, as feeble as they were. I tried to keep it simple yet honest and not scary. Who knows what he understood. I think he was more concerned about the logistics than the theology.
He had plenty of interesting thoughts but the cutest was about the inside of the church. It went something like this...
"Mommy, I really liked that church inside."
"What did you like?" (thinking stained glass, pews, music)
"I just really thought that big Jesus was going to come down and talk."
Yes, the result of having and icon behind the altar at our church and not a larger than life crucifix. It was endearing, really, to hear him so eager for Jesus to come to life and speak. An eagerness I should desire.
We finish our years like a sigh...So teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:9,12
Attending a funeral is a great reminder of the reality of just how mortal we are, which is very. Our days are numbered and it has been said that the remembrance of this is a good thing.
Last Friday, the kids and I drove to St. Louis of France Catholic Church, a good 30 minutes away. This is the church where my parents were married and was my father's family parish fo many years. We were a bit late to the funeral Mass of a dear family friend known to me as Aunt Connie who had reposed earlier in the week. I was glad to be there and glad to give Basil the experience. As we drove from the church to the cemetary, the questions began. What happens to the body? Why do we bury it? Who does it? Do they take the body apart? Where is she? Words like casket, soul, resurrection, incorruption, digging, bones, prayers, and angels were flowing. I was glad to have answers, as feeble as they were. I tried to keep it simple yet honest and not scary. Who knows what he understood. I think he was more concerned about the logistics than the theology.
He had plenty of interesting thoughts but the cutest was about the inside of the church. It went something like this...
"Mommy, I really liked that church inside."
"What did you like?" (thinking stained glass, pews, music)
"I just really thought that big Jesus was going to come down and talk."
Yes, the result of having and icon behind the altar at our church and not a larger than life crucifix. It was endearing, really, to hear him so eager for Jesus to come to life and speak. An eagerness I should desire.
We finish our years like a sigh...So teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:9,12
6 Comments:
May her Memory be Eternal.
Basil's comments are very deep and show a good knowledge of God. And, sweet too.
I am glad Basil felt at home where so many beautiful things have happened, and where many special people have passed through the doors in days past.
I am not sure you know this story Sara, but later, as we all attended the grave site ceremony where many other loved ones (family and friends) rest, as Grandpa (Phil) stood quietly in deep contemplation of his surroundings, Juliana approached him with a kiss....of peace, at the moment he needed it most.
Memory Eternal! Basil has quite a capacity for God.
Two weeks ago at my grandfather's funeral I heard my younger cousins asking their parents similar questions.
What profound statements for a child. I've been away for a while, but I am back now and will have to get updated on what has been going on with you guys.
from the mouths of babes.
May Aunt Connie's Memory be Eternal!
Kids are great!
I recall the first death they encountered was a woman at our Parish, as my wife read Psalms over her body my children just wandered around the Church coming back from time to time to look at Elizabeth who laid their in repose.
Time later they attended the funeral of my cousin, who's name was also, Connie at the church that Connie and her family were a part of. During the Memorial Service they played a video on a large screen showing Connie in life. Later that evening at the hotel our kids were playing funeral in the room... at one point one of the kids said, and now a film about Connie and turned on the TV... well (unfortunately) hotel TVs turn on to a station where they advertise movies that you can pay the hotel to watch... and what were they advertising? A rather... risque film (yikes!). Though I think Connie would have found this funny.
And the story of Juliana giving Grandpa Phil a kiss is great!
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