In death there is life

Back from the graveyard where I presided at the burial of a man in his 50s. What a dreary, dreary, rainy day. We are going to wash away.

This is the sixth burial at which I have officiated since arriving in late November. And next week will be Esther.

As I stood to the side of the grave, watching the grave diggers position the vault lid, I thought of all the times over the past 16 years I have traced the cross on the coffin, leaving behind bits of earth, sometimes dusty, sometimes practically mud as today. Our lives go down to the grave, yes, the container that holds our mortal remains is covered with a cross made out of earth, but even at the grave, we make our song, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.

With that hope, then I can begin to cast earth into the hole, three or four shovelfuls before leaving.

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But there is no rest for the weary. Now it's onto a wedding rehearsal this evening... my first wedding in this new space and first wedding in four years.