Blog: the privilege of time

To my loves,
We went to a beautiful service yesterday. The congregation was full, her casket was open and for a moment, I worried about what this memory would bring for you. You both clung on to us. R kept rubbing his face and I knew he was not okay. He was putting himself in his friend's shoes. Right there in the front row, seeing where his mama laid. I was trying to contain as much of the tears, but they came anyway, especially during the part of the service where we sat as music played. 
The pastor spoke a summary of her life; as a person who served others, an educator, a mom and a wife. I had the privilege of seeing her for some big moments in her life: seeing how my friend's face light up as he introduced us to her; watching them dancing on their wedding day; holding her little bundle. These small moments woven into her short 41 written chapters. 

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During the service, both the pastor and his wife spoke about her faith. This was the thing that I will always remember her by and why I shed the most tears. Her faith was genuine and tangible. You could see it in everything that she did and I am sorry to say that she was one of a handful (1 of 4, to be precise) that I have ever met in my life that was the embodiment of a Believer; a true Christ follower. I mourned for the things that she could have accomplished and people who she may have helped had she had more time. 
And selfishly, funerals also shine a bright spotlight into our own lives. How are we living? Are we walking testimonies of faith? Or a mirror of disillusionment? Am I fully aware of my mortality and that tomorrow is never promised? Or am I walking around unaware and pretending that I have all this time?

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I've never seen a dead body up close. This is actually my fifth funeral and the other times; the casket was closed. After the service, they led us to the aisle to where she lay to say goodbye before exiting the church. I held my little man's hand, and we walked up and I whispered my goodbye.
Truly, what a privilege to have known you. I only wish you had more time with your little man. I know he will be loved on, cared for and hear about your stories; your memories will be preserved. And of all the stories told about you, I know the part about your faith, your walk in Grace and unabashed and unapologetic love for Christ will be the one story most people will tell. 

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If you’re still here—thank you.
I write about motherhood, faith, grief, identity, and becoming—both here and in my poetry and prose.
📖 You can find my books here: [link]