"Mom, you've been to too many funerals..."

That was Celia's response.
Bennett: "That's 5 people I know who've died."
Camilla: "Everyone always dies."

Today I'm trying to count the number of funerals I've attended- to remember the names of those lost....

here's what I came up with:

John, Grandaddy, Papa, Barbocka, Allison, Jenny, Amanda, Michael, Mr. Cochran, Quentin, Elizabeth, Gran, Scottie, Jeremy, Aimee.

Those are the only funerals I can think of in the span of a minute. The names of friends lost is much longer. Some of those names include acquaintances, some friends who moved on in life, some friends of friends...


Thursday, Dave came home and added to the list, Lyndsey.
My closest cousin in age; we grew up together. The memories flood....

Birthdays. Christmas. Carpool. Cain Drive. Hobcaw. East Cooper School. Ambrosia. Porter Gaud. Savannah. Cheerleading. Isle of Palms. Bozo the Clown. Hunter. Jesse. Jasmine. Jossie. Chloe. Even Mugsy. Shampoos and Conditioners. Sweet Sixteens. Camp. Choir. Holly Hill. Semi-formals. Prom. Parties. Rehearsals. Weddings. Family.


Since highschool our lives have not intersected very much. Always the class behind me. She let me take her place, wear her cheerleading uniform my senior year to cheer for our boys basketball team played for the state championship. Life had been too much for me and I'd had to stop for basketball season. We joked it was "my coming out of retirement..."

Spending the weekend in Charleston with my family remembering Lyndsey- who she was, who she became. It was painful. There is much to grieve- the loss unbearable for her husband, children, parents, sisters....my prayer is that the gospel will transform this loss.

I wanted to stand up and clap as the priest proclaimed Jesus amid such darkness. The name of Jesus needed to be spoken. Loudly. Again and again- that there is Hope. A Savior. A Rescuer.

Camilla is right. Everyone always dies. The loss experienced will continue to happen again again as we live in this broken world. Its too much to look ahead and imagine the pain awaiting.

Yes we do grieve with hope, but with pain.