Back in 2001-2002, I recorded “Tuning Up” to share our music with the world. But it also served as a way to help me heal. My heart was still raw from my mom’s death four years earlier. I think when you lose a parent, you start spinning out of control and you need to grab onto something to keep you from hitting bottom. I grabbed onto music – a gift from my mom. She was the one who in 1994, convinced our pastor (Father Hayes) to give me the job of leading the choir. It is through this ministry that our roots grew deep and our ministry flourished.

 

I am honored to be able to sing at funerals. Although each funeral is basically the same, each is unique. Some funerals include eulogies. Some eulogies are simple, others poignant. But beyond the words and stories is the presence of family. It always tugs my heartstrings as I watch a family of six or eight grown children touching the casket – saying goodbye for the last time. As I sing that final song and the casket is carried out, with the family following in tears, I look to my own future and see the eyes and faces of my children. I often have a hard time making it through that song. I hope I will be ready for that final journey with my children by my side. I hope to be the dad who lets his children know that I am ready. I hope that I will have told them all I need to tell them. I hope they will know how much I love them. I hope they will know “that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39) And because of that love, nothing will be able to separate them from my love. I want to be able to say to them, “I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now...Come further up, come further in!” (C.S. Lewis, “The Last Battle”)

 

Our "Home" project began several years ago as a gift to people who are experiencing loss – especially those who have experienced the death of a loved one. I know, from experience, the pain. I remember the weight on my chest the night my mom died. How could this happen? She was my mom. Moms don’t die until everyone is grown up. This just doesn’t happen. And I can’t help her. She has to do this alone. But, in our faith, she doesn’t. As I think about her final moments, dying in the arms of her groom, I could imagine my dad saying to Jesus, “I did my best. I can’t help her anymore. She was mine for such a short time. But she is yours and I give her back to you. I only ask that I remember and feel her love every day for the rest of my life.”

 

Amazing gifts we humans have been given – love and memory. These two things (among others) separate us from every other creature. And these two things make dealing with death easier for some and harder for others. In my experience, love, memory, faith, hope, joy, peace, mercy and so much more are experienced and learned at Home. Though imperfect here, in this life, each is made perfect when we finally make it Home. I look forward to returning Home after work. And I look forward to returning Home someday, where “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more…” Revelation 21:4.

 

If you are reading this and hope is hiding under the shadow of death in your heart, please consider getting help for your grief. There are so many groups all over the world that are there for you (like GriefShare - http://www.griefshare.org/). There is hope. There is even joy. I pray that God will be a balm for your wounds and that He heals your brokenness.

 

And as we sing the traditional Irish blessing:

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face;

The rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.