Death as birth...

"Death is only part of the process of life." - from The Lakota Way

 It's been a couple days. As in, it seems much has taken place.

We took our "date night" last night because it's the only night available this week. We had one glass of wine too many and were home by 7:30. Then I had the strangest phone call. It was from a friend of Jane's, whose name is also Jane. Except it wasn't her. It was her longtime boyfriend/partner. I didn't understand what he was saying at first, and he finally just blurt out, "Jane's dead." Ugh. We've been friends for 10-15 years or so, used to go to church together, work concerts together, hang out at summer events together. They were slightly younger than us, but it seemed we shared a lot of some deeper-type stuff. It was a punch in the gut, and I still feel somewhat hollow this afternoon.

This morning, then, I get another strange call. My mom. Uh-oh. She never calls mid-week. I guess my aunt Mary passed away earlier today. She has been in a nursing home for a number of years, so this one is likely as much relief as shock, but still. To top it off, though, in a way I think perfectly describes my memory of her and her late husband when they were alive, it is apparently his birthday today! So I'm guessing they are partying like never before!

While not exactly the same, I also finished Winn Collier's' biography of Eugene Peterson (A Burning In My Bones) this morning. Wow, what a wonderful book, which I thoroughly enjoyed. It ends, of course, with the end of Eugene's life. The controversy at that time was so tragic, but the picture Winn painted of the man and his family, ever so tender. And, it made me think of my dad - his death, and the tragedy of how it happened. I cried for the first time in what seems like a long time.

They say deaths usually come in threes. I'm hoping Eugene's passes as the third. It seemed like a lot for a period less than 24 hours...

Anyway, it reminded me to take a look at my post from about a year ago: "Death Notes." That's where the title of this post is from, in these words written by James Bryan Smith:

Death is really another birth. Imagine telling a baby in the womb, attached to an umbilical cord, "Hey, guess what? You are about to enter into a bright new world with sound and light and air and brilliant colors. You will be able to see and smell and taste for the first time. There are mountains and sunflowers and sandy beaches... a lot of beautiful things out here. You're gonna have to let go of that umbilical cord. In fact, we're gonna snip it. Don't worry. You'll be fine after a few moments of crying." I think our death is something like that. It is actually a birth into a brighter, more aromatic, more delicious, more beautiful world than the one we now know...

 

Peace, my friends; in, and out.