A Collection of Days: Thoughts-whammie.

Hurricane Sandy off the coast of Fl.

You would have to live in Florida to understand what it feels like when there is a hurricane offshore a hundred miles or so. I have lived here long enough to recognize the signs without watching the weather on television. Everything seems to slightly shift. There is a distinct feeling in the air that rushes in with the gusts of wind, almost electric, accompanied by a strong scent of the sea. The skies have a particular tint of gray mingled with a deeper blue of approaching clouds, and the waters churn and create a colossal white froth of wave that rushes toward a shore of blowing sand.
Hurricane Sandy was parallel to our shore the day I drove over the bridge onto the island to attend the funeral of my friend, Cheryl. Our long standing joke to one another was about weather conditions and rightly so because we weathered together that very ominous time of watching our 16 year old daughters and sons either begin to drive or getting into cars where we had to trust other 16/17 year old kids drive them around. It seems every weekend at this age my son Joseph would go to Cheryl's house and surf with her son Ron and together cruise Cocoa Beach. Cheryl's daughter, Judy Kay, would come to my house to visit my daughter Rachel. Together they would attend Friday night youth group, make brownies, watch movies, shop for clothes, and pile in the car with other teenagers.

Cheryl and her granddaughter. I love this picture.

Cheryl with her dad and brother

Cheryl

If the weather was clear, Cheryl and I were still concerned. If it was partly cloudy with a chance of rain, the concerned heightened and if it was raining...well we worried. We called the weather worries whammies. Through the years if anything was added to these drives in the rain (and it stayed with us even as they grew older), for instance if one of them was pregnant or their wife pregnant or heaven forbid they were driving in snow or ice, then we called it a double whammie. The day we all gathered at the funeral home would have been a triple whammie because to drive in or close to a hurricane would have been out of the question for us! I had to smile through tears the day I drove over the causeway and looked toward the skies of a gathering storm and down toward the white caps in the river below. I don't know how God thinks. The scriptures that tells us " His ways are not my ways" seem to make more and more sense to me the older I become. But on that day a feeling stirred deep down, a feeling that the unlikely timing of taking hold of my friends hand during this hurricane and taking her home to be with Him forever was purposed by Him for many reasons. As I came off the bridge I could almost hear God whispering words of comfort-words to calm me from just erupting in uncontrollable tears." Lee, she is with me now. Her heart is at peace. Her mind is at peace. Your friend is completely whole. I have got her. I have always had her even through her most ferocious storms. Go grieve with her family. Go remind them that I love them...that I love her. And go tell Cheryl goodbye,but remember, it is only for a while." I took a deep breath and turned onto highway A1A.

I loved Cheryl's style. She loved these boots!

The funeral was packed with over a hundred people sitting in wide wooden church pews. A gray light came in through tall windows-the casket open in the front of the church. I remembered Judy Kay walking down the isle of that church toward Jimmy, her husband to be, many years ago. Cheryl and I had scurried around placing big ferns up front.
I glanced at Cheryl's wedding veil draped over her casket. Weddings-death-weddings again - life cycles. And yet the ultimate wedding at the end of the age. Revelation 19:7 Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory. For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready, Fine linen, bright and clean, was given her to wear." I sat there and wondered that since eternal life is outside of time as we know it, was it possible that Cheryl was attending at that very moment the wedding of the Lamb? Was she in fact rejoicing and giving Jesus, the lamb slain for her, for us, glory? Was she standing before him with the multitudes clothed in the clean fine linen of His righteousness shouting "Holy, holy holy" as we sat there that day in the earthly sanctuary singing our hymns of worship? Earthly funerals and heavenly weddings. Did they happen simultaneously? And perhaps somehow she could hear or just knew all these words of love being poured out of every heart that spoke about her, every quivering word of praise concerning her faithfulness as a daughter, a wife,a mother, a mother-in-law,grandmother, friend. Perhaps she felt it enveloping her. Love is eternal and connected. I don't think it just dissipates. It has everything to do with the Spirit, not the body. Oh I will never know what happens after death. But these were my thoughts that day. I do know we are with the Lord when we leave this earth. And that day I knew that Cheryl was worshiping Him face to face.

Can you hear her laughter. I can

Cheryl's funeral was a testimony of praise to life, to love and so to God. I sat with quiet prayers and tears as I listened to the tender, beautiful and sometimes humorous stories about her. She loved to have fun. Her head back laugh was from her belly and insanely infectious. And yes, she was a sinner. Yes, she fretted and worried and wondered about many things that she desperately wanted and sometimes tried to fix. She had the heart of a caretaker. She had a heart of fire. It was as big and volatile as life itself. But oh how that complex heart loved her Lord, defending Him always till the end of her life here on His earth. Many people were touched by that fire. Many.

Cheryl's husband-Pastor Ken Babington-Easter Sunrise Service

Laughing.

There was fierce love for her spoken that day mingled with devastated grief. It wrapped around most everyone there and filled the room. And I think what finally wiped me out emotionally was when her 13 grandchildren stood in front of the casket and with brave voices sang to us, to her and to God a hymn. They sang about Jesus, life and his amazing grace-words Cheryl proclaimed over and over. She would have loved it. LOVED IT. I could practically feel her grinning from ear to ear. Her tenacious desire was for these children and young adults to embrace the Gospel- to run with it throughout their lives, pass it on to their children and then their children's children. That desire, that passion-Jesus, family, all wrapped into one, defined her. It was her life. Even when I am old and gray do not forsake me O God until I declare your power to the next generation-your might that is to come. Psalm 71:18 Cheryl had done this and had done it well. That day I think the voices of the next generation went straight up to heaven and were heard by God and His angels; voices mingling with the praises in heaven before the throne of God. Somehow, I think Cheryl heard them and in the face of God, smiled with pure delight.

But even though hope rings loud and profoundly at the death of His saints, my heart was still filled with down to earth grief as I watched Judy Kay, Ron and Lisa standing before this large crowd proclaiming God's goodness and honoring their mother. I knew a storm had come, one that left broad sweeps of emptiness upon places that had been alive and vibrant with Cheryl's presence. The death of a mother is a terrible storm, a hurricane of emotion and gut wrenching sorrow. Your world shifts. There is another feeling in the air- air so thin you can hardly breathe, spaces so empty you can hardly walk. And I knew these feelings would grow stronger with each passing day until their grief was full grown in their hearts. This is the way of it. Grief expands with the continued realization of loss until the heart feels like it will bust. And finally when the heart can hold no more, the grief, fully realized, trickles out little by little until the heart has room for life again. So I prayed that day in the big church for Gods mercy on Cheryl's family. I prayed that He would " heal the broken hearted and bind up their wounds" as He promised in Psalm 147. I thought about how it would hurt Cheryl so deeply to see them so wounded.

Her kids.

I identified with that motherly love and knew her passion would be to protect and love those children and grandchildren with all her might- to gather them in her arms and tell them not to cry, not to feel sorrow. But in times like this, the only person who has the power to alleviate pain from motherless children is God-the one who assures them that their mom did not really die, that for the one covered in the blood of the Lamb, death is really not death. The horrible impact of that curse was felt only by Jesus. He took that blow for us and because of Him we will never know such darkness, such utter despair. No, death did not hold her because it could not hold HIM in the grave. Cherly merely stepped into her new body into a new world, another reality -actually the only reality that we can see only dimly this side of life- the reality of the Kingdom of God. She saw it full and complete. She "knew as she had been known". It is in this place where all life storms have passed, no whammies, no worries, no anxiety. Every tear was wiped from her eyes, every longing fulfilled. She was home.

God took Cheryl from us on a ominous day, a day when merciless winds were heading our way but within a second she stood in a kingdom where the scriptures say darkness does not dwell because His glory shines so bright. Holy, Holy Holy Lord God Almighty who was and Is and Is to Come. We will see Him soon. We will see her soon. We are only separated by time and I know she waits for us. Probably laughing.