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HOMILY - faith festival all saints, all souls
Through deaths door. At death one passes to the everlasting banquet table of gracious, merciful Creator, God.
It never seems to fail: When death knocks, people listen!
One or the other must leave,
One or the other must stay.
One or the other must grieve,
That is forever the way.
That is the vow that was sworn,
Faithful 'til death do us part.
Braving what had to be borne,
Hiding the ache in the heart.
One, how so ever adored,
First must be summoned away.
That is the will of the Lord,
One or the other must stay.
Visits with my Godmother, Leona were not easy. With a constant smile and a deep faith in her Maker to support a quickly fading life, this woman of faith's festival, this good and faithful soul died. Angels of the Lord, come to her assistance!
Until her final breath, she nourished my life by good example, like my mom and dad. A good Godparent, Leona was there.
At the table we fed, now, at her bed she is led. Standing there, hovering over her, I hear her say:
Hear me. Let me speak about how I feel. I see the pain, worry and confusion of so many family and friends. Help them. Be there for them. Traverse with them and me together. Ask my physician how I am doing. Ask me. Be honest, though. For me, for you. Death is part of life. It's real. Death is a head turner. It's happening to me right now!
Help me feel my frustration, my fears and lamenting. Please don't talk or pray me out of them. I need to wrestle with these things. Tell me it's okay to be angry at you, the doc, the nurses, my family, even my God. Treat me more than a patient. I am a person with dignity at death's door still. I know you're threatened by this intruder into my living. Use this opportunity to deal with your fear, your faith in dying, in rising, and, in feeding finally at the table of everlasting life.
Touch me. At times I feel like I may have leprosy. Hug me. I also need affection, and affirmation, you know. Dignify my dying and don't deny me my God-given worth. Before it's too late, so late, ever so late, as the poet sings, tell me you love me. Have I told you lately, I love you?
Let me talk about my story, the farm in Filion, Michigan's thumb, the litany of living poured out: The years of laughter, the great depression, the dances and dinners, the trying times and tears. Remind me of the difference I made to you, to my husband, Matt, my son Bobby, my daughters, the vegetables we canned together every Fall. Pull out of me memories of married life marked with love. With long suffering endurance, with an ache in my heart, yet God never apart from my heart, my rosary beads.
Now, please pray with me at my bed side, like we do at the altar table. Don't you hide behind pious platitudes that I can't understand. Help me deal with God when I ask, Why me?
Why now and not later?
Why?
Yes, but...?
YES.
Pray with me, not for me. I'm still alive, you know. Let me answer for myself before I do to God in an account of my days. Give me eternal rest. Grant me peace.
Yes, and I leave her bedside in the festival of faith. I come to this table, this feeding trough where Jesus was born and rises again within these bones,this brain, this body, this Body of Christ.
Dear God,
So far it's been a good day -
I haven't yelled, I haven't spat.
I havent gossiped or kicked the cat.
I haven't lied and haven't cussed.
I haven't whined or even fussed.
But great the task that lies ahead,
for tomorrow I must get out of bed.
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual Light sine upon them. +May the souls of the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace. Amen. So be it. It is true.
A festival of faith. For all saints. All souls. All of us. Forever, faithful friends of God and me.
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