Yesterday was the funeral for My Husband's Aunt. It went very well. The service was a great tribute for Her. She had already chosen the Hymns and readings she wanted a few years ago, and shown my Husband where to find her chosen wishes.
This shows a lot of foresight on the part of Aunty. She had these things stored in Her Memory Drawer. I can't imagine choosing my own Hymns and readings right now, but I think it's a realistic thing to do. Like writing a will, and having paperwork in order at all times. Aunty is still an inspiration.
Somehow I expected to feel more sad and lonely at Her going. I feel warm and comforted when I think of Her, as though her memory is inside me, and right beside me. Perhaps I too believe so strongly that death is not final, and our essence lives on through the generations that follow. Even that we ourselves have no children, no one to tell her story to, Her story is part of our lives.
Aunty is a shining example of quiet Sainthood. Forever giving of herself, never questioning the cost. Never considering Herself and Her own needs first, always wanting to see others happy and loved. I have this shining feeling inside about Her. I know She is shining and bathed in the Glory of the Presence of God in His Eternal Kingdom. I would that her story be always remembered. She was a flower that bloomed in the field, and went on blooming until the end of her earthly days. That fresh pink rose, from blush of childhood to saintly old age.
In stark contrast I watched the news this morning, and see a world torn by self serving, lost morals, and greedy manipulators. The whole middle east is a tinderbox of unrest. With outside influences trying to sway country against country. If this is indeed the herald of the last days the Bible speaks of, I am glad that Aunty has left this mortal coil, and will not have to suffer world tormoil if all these incendiary provocations are ignited.
Perhaps we will not change unless we are hanging over the precipice of destruction? Is it possible that the USA now has so many problems in it's own country that they will have to withdraw their manipulating tentacles abroad? The words of Jesus 'The poor will inherit the Earth' could mean so many things. Perhaps 'The Poor' are those who have become displaced both physically and emotionally, and are deeply in debt. Nations and individuals.
I wonder if we must return to our extended family roots? There was great poverty during the first half of the 20th century, (and every century before that, great poverty has always been with us but we choose not to see it) and the only survival means was the extended family network.
This was what Aunty upheld, and was part of. During the Jersey Occupation years, when food was scarce, and people were starving here, it was only by sharing, and helping one another that the Islanders got through. Everyone was starving, the Occupiers and the Occupied. It was Red Cross shipments that saved both.
I must get myself a copy of The Gurnsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, and read it. It is about our sister island. Kenneth Brannagh is making a film of it later this year in Gurnesy, with Kate Winslet as the lead. These stories and reminders show us what interdependence in society is about.
Perhaps it has just become a western world so saturated with noise, media stations generating a semblance of news that does not tell real stories, a kind of propaganda to perpetuate the telling of 'news'. Simply an industry of the 'right kind of noise' to drown out our own voices and thoughts.
We have lost our ability to be 'knowing'. Now we are unknowns, statistics, unheard voices, unfulfilled in work, and destitute without it.
We have become addicted to noise. It fills our time, and makes us impotent to change the reality presented to us. This is why I think we are seeing revolutions all over the world. Perhaps we have begun to find the silence within that enables us to think our own thoughts again? Perhaps we are giving each other time to hear each others thoughts through the internet, and social networking. Perhaps the News media is in some dying death throws, as it continues to ignore the real stories, and present the world as it wishes us to see it, like the magician who works with mirrors. You are only shown enough to make you believe in the trick, or wonder at the speed of it's progression. Powerless in both cases to understand it, and distanced so far from it that you are not party to it's 'mystery'.
Perhaps this century is the one where we blow away the smoke and smash the mirrors of illusion. I am reminded of Exodus where Moses took the bronze mirrors from the women and made the Laver of Copper and the stand of copper from the mirrors of the women who thronged the Tent of Meeting. Somehow the women came and reflected the Glory of God that shone in Moses face back to Him so he could understand it. Moses only needed to see this revelation once to know that these mirrors captured and reflected a reality He had not understood Himself. A Truth had been reflected in them, so he made this special utensil to bear witness to this truth, that must have been unbearable, yet essential to establish Moses own identity.
We have lost our identities in this sea of noise and static broadcast by ourselves, and the media we subscribe to. We need to find ourselves again, and find a way to make ourselves heard back to those whom we have given our power to, in order that they understand what we require of them.
Recognition. We are not statistics.
This shows a lot of foresight on the part of Aunty. She had these things stored in Her Memory Drawer. I can't imagine choosing my own Hymns and readings right now, but I think it's a realistic thing to do. Like writing a will, and having paperwork in order at all times. Aunty is still an inspiration.
Somehow I expected to feel more sad and lonely at Her going. I feel warm and comforted when I think of Her, as though her memory is inside me, and right beside me. Perhaps I too believe so strongly that death is not final, and our essence lives on through the generations that follow. Even that we ourselves have no children, no one to tell her story to, Her story is part of our lives.
Aunty is a shining example of quiet Sainthood. Forever giving of herself, never questioning the cost. Never considering Herself and Her own needs first, always wanting to see others happy and loved. I have this shining feeling inside about Her. I know She is shining and bathed in the Glory of the Presence of God in His Eternal Kingdom. I would that her story be always remembered. She was a flower that bloomed in the field, and went on blooming until the end of her earthly days. That fresh pink rose, from blush of childhood to saintly old age.
In stark contrast I watched the news this morning, and see a world torn by self serving, lost morals, and greedy manipulators. The whole middle east is a tinderbox of unrest. With outside influences trying to sway country against country. If this is indeed the herald of the last days the Bible speaks of, I am glad that Aunty has left this mortal coil, and will not have to suffer world tormoil if all these incendiary provocations are ignited.
Perhaps we will not change unless we are hanging over the precipice of destruction? Is it possible that the USA now has so many problems in it's own country that they will have to withdraw their manipulating tentacles abroad? The words of Jesus 'The poor will inherit the Earth' could mean so many things. Perhaps 'The Poor' are those who have become displaced both physically and emotionally, and are deeply in debt. Nations and individuals.
I wonder if we must return to our extended family roots? There was great poverty during the first half of the 20th century, (and every century before that, great poverty has always been with us but we choose not to see it) and the only survival means was the extended family network.
This was what Aunty upheld, and was part of. During the Jersey Occupation years, when food was scarce, and people were starving here, it was only by sharing, and helping one another that the Islanders got through. Everyone was starving, the Occupiers and the Occupied. It was Red Cross shipments that saved both.
I must get myself a copy of The Gurnsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, and read it. It is about our sister island. Kenneth Brannagh is making a film of it later this year in Gurnesy, with Kate Winslet as the lead. These stories and reminders show us what interdependence in society is about.
Perhaps it has just become a western world so saturated with noise, media stations generating a semblance of news that does not tell real stories, a kind of propaganda to perpetuate the telling of 'news'. Simply an industry of the 'right kind of noise' to drown out our own voices and thoughts.
We have lost our ability to be 'knowing'. Now we are unknowns, statistics, unheard voices, unfulfilled in work, and destitute without it.
We have become addicted to noise. It fills our time, and makes us impotent to change the reality presented to us. This is why I think we are seeing revolutions all over the world. Perhaps we have begun to find the silence within that enables us to think our own thoughts again? Perhaps we are giving each other time to hear each others thoughts through the internet, and social networking. Perhaps the News media is in some dying death throws, as it continues to ignore the real stories, and present the world as it wishes us to see it, like the magician who works with mirrors. You are only shown enough to make you believe in the trick, or wonder at the speed of it's progression. Powerless in both cases to understand it, and distanced so far from it that you are not party to it's 'mystery'.
Perhaps this century is the one where we blow away the smoke and smash the mirrors of illusion. I am reminded of Exodus where Moses took the bronze mirrors from the women and made the Laver of Copper and the stand of copper from the mirrors of the women who thronged the Tent of Meeting. Somehow the women came and reflected the Glory of God that shone in Moses face back to Him so he could understand it. Moses only needed to see this revelation once to know that these mirrors captured and reflected a reality He had not understood Himself. A Truth had been reflected in them, so he made this special utensil to bear witness to this truth, that must have been unbearable, yet essential to establish Moses own identity.
We have lost our identities in this sea of noise and static broadcast by ourselves, and the media we subscribe to. We need to find ourselves again, and find a way to make ourselves heard back to those whom we have given our power to, in order that they understand what we require of them.
Recognition. We are not statistics.
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