I saw a meme once that said their mind was like someone emptied the kitchen junk drawer onto a trampoline and, right now, I get that.  It has been an extremely stressful month filled with too much pain, far too much loss, and enough disappointment to deter even the most optimistic person from getting out of bed.

This Sunday looked like it was pretty much gonna ice the cake—or break the camel’s back.  Feel free to insert any appropriate old saying or cliché of your choosing.  The last service of the day was scheduled to begin at 3:00, but car trouble on a family member’s part delayed things until well after 4:30.  We knew the sun would be setting soon, and the dark is not your friend when trying to fill a sizable hole on a hillside.  I worried about the grave crew and what would be required of them, but we all understood the situation wasn’t really under any earthly being’s control, so we tried not to tie ourselves in a knot.  Knot tying doesn’t help anyone (unless possibly while camping or on a boat), least of all the folks who were able to make it to the service on time and were now called upon to patiently wait.

As I had predicted, we left the building just before dusk.  Fortunately, the cemetery wasn’t too far away.  Unfortunately, it was still far enough that the sun was well on its way to setting when we arrived and parked.  Normally, I wouldn’t be standing in a cold, dark cemetery, but I was charged with making pictures for family members who lived too far away to attend.  So, there I was, shivering so that I was certain the pictures would be a total blur.  I had not come prepared for cold.  It wasn’t cold when I left the house, therefore, it should not be cold now.  But it was and my sweater didn’t feel nearly as thick as it had earlier in the day.

The minister read a scripture and another minister said a prayer.  Then one of them spoke briefly with the funeral director and the funeral director spoke briefly with a member of the grave crew.  Together, our two employees removed the boards that supported the casket and set the lowering device in motion.  As the casket slowly began its descent, those who had made the trip to the cemetery began to sing, ever so softly, Shall We Gather at the River.  I looked up . . . just in time to see the sun setting the sky aglow as it sank behind the trees.  I was the only one there who had that vantage point, the only one there who could see the beauty of the moment, and as I stood watching the casket move almost imperceptibly into its final resting place, accompanied by the strains of an old and well-worn hymn with the sun casting its last, fading light through the trees—I felt it.  That perfect moment.  That perfect calm.  That perfect peace.  The chaos of the world had retreated, banished by the love and faith that surrounded that grave.

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