May These Ashes Speak Of Love

    

    What would someone say about me at my funeral? That is what I always contemplate as I leave a farewell service. On the last day when people gather to honor the life of their beloved family member, friend, or neighbor. What they say while standing before all who represent ones’ life matters tremendously.

    As no one knows how long their life will be we all have the same challenge to live it well. No matter how many things one accumulates, in the end, it is what other people think about you that lasts beyond the dash you are given on this earth.

    I used to live by a grouchy neighbor when I was growing up. She rarely talked to anyone unless it was to complain about something she didn’t approve of. Her house was direct across from ours so she had a great view of all the Tullis’ comings and goings.

    From time to time she would march over to our house to ask for my Father. He would patiently come to the door to hear her complain about his yard, or his children, or the way he parked in front of his driveway.

     Meanwhile, she spent all of her time cultivating an exotic garden she hid away in her back yard. When she became a widow she frequented the front step more often to give my Father unwanted feedback on how he was raising his then teenagers.

    One time when I came home from college she burst from her door to tell me I was the only one of my siblings that seem to be turning out ok. As I looked at this woman I had grown to fear I could see that she was pitifully lonely even if she was cross.

    She had one son who rarely visited her and a garden. It was rumored that the inside of her house were many exotic collectibles but none of the neighbors had ever been welcomed in for a cookie or a chat. These were just rumors that no one could prove. 

    As she stood almost hovering over me with her pointed finger I stopped backing up and decided to show compassion. I asked if I could pray for her about the medical condition she had started talking about. Not waiting for a response I prayed right then and there.

     She just stood there looking at me with her jaw dropped. Later I heard that she mentioned the prayer to my Father with disdain, but I felt for the first time I could try to help her a little bit with my faith. As the years continued to pass my Father started to talk to her more about heaven on the occasions when she came to complain about something she saw him doing in the front yard.

“I am fine, thank you. I have been a good enough person and I will make to heaven on my own.” She stated with irritation when he would ask her if she had made peace with God.

And one day she died.

    There was an auction to sell her things. On the front lawn, her priceless vases went for 5 and 10 dollars. Inside strangers trampled her white fluffy carpets with dirty shoes. A few months later her home was sold to a young couple. They eagerly began to reconstruct the yard by mowing down all the exotic plants and flowers she had labored over for years. Her beloved Pine tree was cut down and in one weekend her yard looked like a wasteland.

    As I pulled up to my parent’s home on a visit I just stood facing her house in shock. In less than a year this notorious neighbor’s home was unrecognizable. She was put in the ground without a large gathering to say goodbye to their beloved. She was laid to rest mostly alone, just like the way she spent her life.

    I felt said as I looked at her house and yard. I felt sad that I didn’t have fond memories and I didn’t really know her though I spent 18 years across the street from her. The only thing she left behind was the scowl on her face. 

    I hope that I live differently. I strive to live differently, to leave a mark on the world. It is just…well, hard to sometimes get out of my own point of view. I realize that I struggle with being selfish too. After a long exhausting day, I don’t want to say hello to a neighbor I just want to collapse on the couch. It seemed easy to judge our grouchy neighbor when I was a child, but as an adult, I find that it is harder to stay open to others. It is harder to think outside of the four walls of my home and my little family.

     But as I attended another funeral service today. As I heard the departed eulogized by co-workers and family I realized that to truly live one must reach outside his or her comfort zone. Let it not be said of me on my final departure that she lived a reclusive life of scowls and lush gardens.

    It is with a humble heart that I cry out to the God who is able to help me be more than I want to be on my own. The God who promises us the help of the Holy Spirit with the following fruit: Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. With a deep breath, I commit again my heart to the One who can use the broken pieces of this life to impact others around me.

     I realize that I am not good enough to make it to heaven without the forgiveness of the Savior, Jesus Christ. But I have learned that his salvation once received by faith is unfolding daily in my life. And though I have rough selfish reclusive days His gentle voice whispers in my ear, “Dianne I have created you for greater things.” He has redeemed me again and again with his love.

    It is with sadness that I think of my late neighbor who never tasted of the peace of forgiveness of her creator God. She went to the grave with folded arms determined to make it on her own…

There is an old song we used to sing in Children’s church that went like this:

Oh you can’t get to heaven (echo) Oh you can’t get to heaven

On roller skates (echo) On roller skates

Oh you can’t get to Heaven on roller skates

Cause you’ll roll right past those pearly gates

All my sins been' washed away, Oh praise the Lord.

So God simply put, help me live a life of love.