Feeling pensive

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It rained in Texas today! Not the downpours that residents feel in the Northwest or the storms that sometimes deluge the eastern coast, but it was wet, and in Texas we are grateful. But it was also dark and dreary, the kind of day that can encourage deep thoughts.

My church recently was rocked by the tragic deaths of a prominent member, active in church affairs and the city of Fort Worth, known and admired by many, and his two children. They were killed in a horrendous accident on Thanksgiving Eve. The mother, badly injured, survived. The funeral was today, and the church expected an overflow crowd. I zoomed from home. I did not know this family—I know the older generation by sight and reputation, had never heard of the branch of the family involved in the accident. But I went because I know they are good people—it makes you think of the now-old book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, by Harold Kushner. I went because even without knowing them I felt surrounded by grief, by the impact of this tragedy on our community. As a now-retired minister once said to me when I asked about a tsunami, “Shit happens.” Faith helps us sort out that shit, and that’s part of why I went today—call it curiosity. And finally, I went because at my age I need reassurance about life and death. Like many people, I am still trying to sort out my belief, even as I feel the time for doing that is shortening. Was it John Donne who wrote, “But at my back I always hear/Time’s winged chariot hurrying near”? At the polar opposite of that thought is the fact that two children died in this accident, and our minister acknowledged that there is something particularly heartbreaking when we lose children with so much of their life ahead of them.

The service brought tears, no doubt about it. I grieved for the brother who gave the eulogy and had an obviously difficult time getting through it, though he managed occasional bits of humor. And I grieved for the visiting minister, the father’s college roommate, who continually wiped his eyes as our minister spoke words of comfort. I grieved for our minister, who had been close friends with this family and had loving stories to tell about all three. I grieved for the surviving widow/mother, who sat in the front row, flanked by the two grandmothers and holding hands with them.

The message of hope that our minister delivered was that God is always with us, in good times and in tragedy—perhaps you must be of my Protestant faith to accept that. But what I came away with today is that we must live with vitality, with a positive attitude. Grief doesn’t go away. It is always there, waiting to overwhelm, to trip us up. I think the same is true of doubt. But it is up to us to live past it and through it. Both the brother who gave the eulogy and the minister talked about grief being with us every day, if we let it in. It’s up to us to shut that gate.

What I’m trying to talk about in these meandering thoughts is the importance of a positive attitude. And that’s what was reinforced for me today in the memorial service. I know it will be a long time before that extended family can move through and beyond grief, but it is up to us to surround them with love and encourage them as they move forward. And it is up to us to live beyond and through our doubts and temporary problems. I am a big believer in the power of positive thinking. Who wrote that book? Norman Vincent Peale, of course.

I had other deep thoughts today, probably about rain or maybe about list-making, but somehow now, after a glass of wine and an offbeat but good dinner—smoked salmon, cream cheese, and some frozen spanakopita—they don’t seem so dark to me. I have been making lists for a couple of weeks—I am not one to let Christmas sneak up on me, and this year I will have my whole family around me. So you can tell lists are needed—food, gifts, things to do. Perhaps attending today’s service, which had sort of loomed over me much of the week, reaffirmed my faith and freed me to move on to holiday planning. I hope it will help me too to remember the true nature of the holiday I celebrate as a Christian and not get lost in the lists and the gifts and the food.

How does the holiday season affect you? Have you made lists? Have you looked at your darkest thoughts? It’s a tough time of the year, despite it being the season of hope and joy.