Let It Be

There are lots of flowers out that are associated with Naomi...


First, glorious peonies. I never really paid much attention to them but I should because there is a huge peony farm in town that is famous. Toward the end of Naomi's stay in the hospital, the staff picked three huge peonies that stayed on the night table in her room and then travelled home with her. And they are out in the garden at her family's house.


The poppies are coming out in the backyard. These are flowers associated with Naomi's uncle, Everett, who used to razz me on the garden and its weeds. After he died, one of his daughters said he'd send me a sign. That spring just one poppy bloomed. Six years later, there are about ten blooms. I picked one and put it by the statue of Mary in the church for this morning's service.


This is the turtle shell that holds Naomi's ashes. Under the shell is a soft leather pouch that is lined with felt.

Her aunt made it. The back story is that Naomi bought the shell at a powow and was going to make a bag out of it. She and her aunt had talked back and forth about it but Naomi never got around to doing it. So after Naomi died, her aunt worked night and day to finish it. The blue jay feathers are because the chief said that Naomi was like the blue jay, loud, insistent, in your face (smile), and colourful.

The stole is the ES one I bought last year. The family liked it.

This morning's liturgy was a most amazing service. The church was packed, SRO. At the beginning, Naomi's mother and aunt smudged the church with sage and sweet grass. Then we processed in singing a mourning song. One of Naomi's friends spoke as did her father. Little Gifford kitty was in a snuggle pouch on Naomi's father's chest. The high school choir sang 'For Good,' and Naomi's two older sisters and cousins sang (to a CD) Alison Krauss' song about crossing the River Jordan, 'Away Down the River.'

The most powerful and unscripted part of the service came at the end: after the commendation and after I censed the turtle shell pouch with the burning sage and sweetgrass, a young man started to sing 'Let It Be.' By the end of the first refrain a few people had joined in. Then people started to sing the next verse and more and more joined in for the next refrain. By the time we got to the end of the song, almost all of the 260 people there were singing. The song got stronger and braver, almost a manifesto of we're not going to go quietly, we're going to keep on singing. It was powerful, unifying and, really, uplifting. I had placed the song there in the liturgy as a way of letting things be, of settling things down but the congregation took it otherwise and I am moved by what happened.

A liturgy can be planned out, orchestrated, but once it begins to unfold, it becomes organic, moving at its own pace. Each liturgy has its own personality even though a simple structure outlines it. This morning is one such example where within a specific congregation and moment, a liturgy took on a life of its own. There's no way we could ever replicate what happened and so it will remain special and unforgettable.

Tangentially, I hope that some of the people who showed up this morning realise that the local Episcopal Church is not totally stuffy, can be flexible but still provide a liturgy that is dignified and respectful.