Funerals and memorial services give us good reason to think about our own passing from this world. After all, death comes to everyone and we would quite foolish to ignore something so certain. With the passing of Billy Graham and a dear friend Jerry Gary during the past couple of weeks I started thinking about a poem written by Mary Frye in 1932. This poem very commonly is found written in the pamphlet you receive during a service for a deceased person as to how that person is still here and you can find them in the winds and snow, etc. It has always struck me as an incredible wrong train of thought. So, I've taken the liberty to write it as I would like it for my funeral some day.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
But, I am not a thousand winds that blow.
I am not the diamond glint on snow.
I am not the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am not the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am not the swift, uplifting rush
Of birds in circling flight.
I am not the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I am in Heaven on high
More alive than ever, you see,
Because Jesus rescued me.
To God be the Glory!
Ladies, see you on Thursday morning to talk about this incredible God that offers to rescue every man, woman, and child. 2 Peter 3:9 "The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance."
Ezra's painting of Butterfly Beach in Santa Barbara seemed fitting for my musings today. :)
