These have been interesting weeks around our church. In the last two weeks, we've had five different funerals, and within the last couple of months, I think there were at least two or three others.
The funerals have covered the range of experiences and emotions. An 18-year-old young man fatally shot. A greatgrandmother who had been married for 63 years. A man in his 40s who was a heroin addict for 20 years until God radically changed his life.
This morning's funeral struck an unexpected emotional cord for me. Near the end of the service, all of the grandchildren, great-grandchildren and extended family members each took a rose and placed it on the top of the closed casket. That sight reminded me of my grandparents' funerals, and my eyes started to well up with tears. Seeing a family's legacy is such an emotional experience; the loss of loved ones is a pain, a wound, an absence that never totally heals, never fully disappears.