I took advantage of a few quiet moments yesterday morning to write notes to two friends who were suffering the loss of loved ones.
The first note was to my friend Ellie, whose mother passed away on Saturday, just a few weeks after celebrating her 100th birthday. Her life was a long fruitful one. Although her mind was sharp, her body was failing badly and she was very limited in mobility. Her death was not a surprise, she was ready to be with God and her family was as prepared as they could be.
The second note was to my friend Teresa who is approaching the end of the first year since the death of her husband. He was a young man, in excellent physical health and his death was sudden, unexpected and almost surgical in the manner he was so swiftly removed from our lives. There was no time for preparation.
Coming up with the perfect words to use in sympathy notes is nearly impossible. I’m never quite sure what to say and it is my hope that my feeble attempt to provide comfort will come through in my words.
As I sealed the envelopes this feeling inadequacy overwhelmed me. How could my awkward words of consolation really help anyone through the pain of losing a mother or husband? I reached for my stamps and carefully placed them in the right hand corners when the image on the face caught my attention. It was a simple picture of paper-white blossoms with the word, “FOREVER” beneath it.
To me, both were a reminder that death is not the end of life, but the beginning of the next phase. The paper-white, a member of the narcissus family, begins life as a dried, lifeless looking bulb. When potted and watered it sprouts life and eventually produces lovely, fragrant blooms. It is a symbol of everlasting life. The word, FOREVER, underscored that fact.
How silly of me to have forgotten that all I can really offer is support. True comfort comes only from faith in God and the promise of His covenant with His people. In God’s eyes we are all stamped “FOREVER.” We do not have expiration dates; instead we move from one phase to another.
I’m not sure this realization will make my notes anymore eloquent, but I certainly do appreciate the reminder.