From the Pastor’s Heart

It seems that Nancy has been babysitting in the home forever. When we served the Simpson United Methodist Church in Erie, Nancy cared for Kelsey, Luke and Jillian Warner.

Luke loved to go with me when I walked our little dog, Louie. Daily, I would ask Luke, “Where are we going today, Luke?” He would invariably answer; “Let’s go to the graveyard and see the dead people.” I thought he might follow in the footsteps of his Grandfather Wood who is a funeral director and was the County Coroner for many years.

Luke and I had some very interesting conversations. It is not easy trying to explain to a four-year-old the concept of death, burial, and heaven. It is difficult enough for adults to grasp, much less a four-year-old.

We are uncomfortable with such words as graveyard, dead, death. They are harsh words. Death is a harsh word because it brings an end to everything that we have known and loved. Death turns our world upside down, and when the shock begins to subside and we begin to pick up the pieces we discover that our lives will never be the same again. It is a daunting task to embark on a journey where we must carve out a new kind of normal.

The journey may be a wilderness experience, but the good news is we do not make that journey alone. God takes every step with us, and when need be carries us until the time we are strong enough to once again walk by His side.

On our walks to the Erie Cemetery, Luke especially liked looking into the mausoleums. When we would look into the mausoleums with the frosted glass, Luke would always say, “Can’t see the dead people today.”

This Sunday as we celebrate All Saints Sunday, Luke’s words echo in my ears: “Let’s go to the graveyard and see the dead people” and “Can’t see the dead people today.” Physically, Luke is correct—we can’t see our loved ones who have passed on. But in the quietness of our souls, we can see our loved ones all around us in so many ways. We not only cherish their memories; we can continue to feel their love and celebrate the gifts they have given us, gifts money cannot buy. They live on in our hearts, but more importantly, we know that death does not have the last word. Because of God’s love and grace, death is only a steppingstone from this life to another far greater.

I pray you will join me this Sunday as we celebrate the “saints” who have died in the arms of our gracious God in the past year. In some great and holy way, we will see “the dead people,” for they are alive forever more in God’s Great Kingdom.

In closing, I would like to share a poem with you that I often share at committal services while I release a balloon, symbolically releasing the deceased into the arms of our eternal Father…..

TO THOSE I LOVE AND THOSE WHO LOVE ME

When I am gone, release me and let me go.
I have so many things to see and do.
You mustn’t tie yourself to me with tears.
Be happy that we had so many years.
I gave you my love.
You can only guess how much you gave to me in happiness.
I thank you for the love you each have shown.
But now it’s time I traveled on alone.
So grieve a while for me, if you must,
Then let your heart be comforted by trust.
It’s only for a while that we must part.
So bless the memories within your heart.
I won’t be far away, for life goes on.
So if you need me, call and I will come.
Though you can’t see or touch me, I’ll be near.
And if you listen with your heart,
You’ll hear all of my love around you soft and clear.
And then when you must come this way alone;
I’ll greet with a smile and “Welcome Home.”

Blessings,
Pastor Russel