a week ago today

A week ago today, after the sad formalities of the weekend had been attended to, we partied on the farm – where it all began.

(Out of a possible 58 people in our immediate family, 49 gathered in Saskatchewan for at least part of the weekend.)

Cousins got reacquainted.

Grandmas

and Grandpas

kibitized with grandkids.

Aunties

and Mommies shared the babies.

Some kids drove big machines


while others went along for the ride.

There was eating

and celebrating

And of course there was our family’s traditional schmalzing tournament.


Schmalzing is running beside a metal tire rim with a stick to help guide it over a course. It’s a ‘sport’ my younger siblings made up after I left home - so I never learned how to do it.

We partied until dark!

bittersweet weekend

The last week was action-packed as we made memorial service arrangements for here, then drove Thursday and Friday to get to Saskatchewan and the funeral on Saturday.

Gilbert and Anne hosted us for a family meal in their garage Friday evening before a viewing at the funeral home. Plans to eat in the back yard were dashed by a violent prairie storm that blew in a little while after we arrived. (It twisted the poles of the tent Gilbert and Anne were meaning to sleep in, drenched a bed or two where we forgot to close windows but we got away lightly compared to farmers with hailed out fields in the country.)


Next day we gathered for a group picture of our huge family before lunch, which was hosted by the church ladies. (And what hospitality we enjoyed from them all weekend; those prairie people sure know how to lay out the red carpet.) Two o’clock saw all us following the coffin into the church.



The service was beautiful, with glowing tributes to Mom all around. I read the obituary (and my voice didn’t waver till the last line), brother Ken did a great job of the eulogy, there were tributes by the grandkids from Camille and Chris, a solo by cousin Marilyn, an amazing PowerPoint presentation put together by Doris, and a comforting talk about heaven by Pastor Gary.

After the service, Mom’s body took its last journey. There was something very moving about driving down those gravel prairie roads to the cemetery (which is in eyeshot of the farm where we grew up.)




The big cloud-dashed sky, the sweet smell of wet earth and grass, the silence with only the sighing of the wind, mixed with the knowledge of how final this all was, brought a choke to the throat, tears to the eye. After we recited the Twenty Third Psalm, the funeral director plucked the nine pink roses out of the coffin spray, handed them to me and I, as the oldest, handed one to each brother and sister.



We drove back to town shortly after that for the reception. That was a fabulous time, meeting family – cousins mostly and one uncle – from all over.

But Sunday afternoon, before our family dinner at the farm, we went to the cemetery again and saw what had been done in our absence.



And so Mom and Dad are reunited once more on the other side. But that reunion has certainly left a big hole on this one.

the opened-up way

Now comes the time of planning -- and traveling. Mom lived most of her life in Saskatchewan. She will be buried there beside Daddy. But she also lived here, half a country away, for the last twenty years. This means that we will do two services - a funeral service in Saskatchewan and a memorial service here.

Mom thoughtfully made and paid for all her funeral arrangements years ago. We don’t have to concern ourselves with many details. But there are some. My responsibility is to plan the memorial service on this end. This must be coordinated with a trip to Saskatchewan and the funeral there. There are lots of decisions to make, like should we do this before that event or after, where will we hold it, who will do the music, etc. Mom expressed her wishes as to who should officiate but already I’ve run up against snags, like no answer when I phone, the general shutting down of things that happens over a holiday weekend and questions that I can’t answer till I meet with the funeral director.

I am not an event planner and I easily stress out about stuff like this. That’s why today’s reading in Streams in the Desert is especially apropos:

When thou goest thy way shall be opened up before thee step by step - Proverbs 4:12 - free translation.

The Lord never builds a bridge of faith except under the feet of the faith-filled traveler. If He builds the bridge a rod ahead, it would not be a bridge of faith. That which is of sight is not of faith.

There is a self-opening gate which is sometimes used in country roads. It stands fast and firm across the road as a traveler approaches it. If he stops before he gets to it, it will not open. But if he will drive right at it, his wagon wheels press the springs below the roadway, and the gate swings back to let him through. He must push right on at the closed gate, or it will continue to be closed.

This illustrates the way to pass every barrier on the road of duty. Whether it is a river, a gate or a mountain, all the child of Jesus has to do is to go for it. If it is a river, it will dry up when you put your feet in its waters. If it is a gate, pit will fly open when you are near enough to it, and are still pushing on. If it is a mountain, it will be lifted up and cast into a sea when you come squarely up, without flinching, to where you thought it was.

Is there a great barrier across your path of duty just now? Just go for it, in the name of the Lord, and it won’t be there.

– Henry Clay Trumbull

... Okay Mr. Trumbull – I’ll go for it!