A life well lived, and magnificently ended.

[captainsblog]

Emily and I got to church ridiculously early tonight for our dear friend's memorial service. As was absolutely necessary for the overflowing of support, and sadness, but by the end even silliness (the postlude was Rainbow Connection) that Lois would have wanted.

Music was everywhere and in everyone. Turns out, Lois herself picked all the songs, of all varieties of sacred, as well as selecting the readings, making the choice to serve communion, and especially choosing the dozen clergy whose lives she'd connected with in ways and at times that most of us are lucky to connect with one or two of in our lives.

That included the cantor of our sister synagogue, who sang a beautiful blessing titled B'Shem Hashem; all four of the pastors, past and present, of our own congregation who served with her during the short five-plus years we were blessed with her companionship; and others from former churches and chaplaincies who singularly spoke of her as amazing influences on her own lives.

Her families were all there. From the oldest of blood relation, the deepest of chosen family, and the extension to all of us in this small home we share for an hour or so every Sunday but where that hour is really only the beginning.

Not much was spoken about her demise, other than that it came on abruptly and took her swiftly. And except for this insert in the order of her final service with us, and to us, titled "What Cancer Can't Do" (author unknown):

It cannot cripple love,
It cannot shatter hope,
It cannot corrode faith,
It cannot eat away peace,
It cannot kill friendship,
It cannot shut out memories,
It cannot silence courage,
It cannot invade the soul,
It cannot reduce eternal life,
It cannot quench the spirit,
It cannot lessen the power of God.

Amen.

Comments

[headbanger118.livejournal.com]

I love the "What Cancer Cannot Do" poem. It comforted me greatly when my uncle was sick. I'm glad the memorial went well.