life and death

what a header huh?

well with the season and all- i've been thinking about life and how great it is to be able to celebrate the birth of my main man Jesus. this weekend i was able to think about death a little bit too. it is a good occasional practice for me and helps me to remember that i need to carpe diem and all that stuff.

what brought it to mind was going to pray for one of charles' new found friend who is dying. we had a nice time being together and it reminds me that i need to pray for the sick as often as the occasion presents itself. if nothing else- it helps me align what i say is important to me- and what i prove to be important to me.

as we were praying for bob (the man's name- if you'd like to pray for him); i cried. charles later inquired about why i got teary (b/c i only met this guy once). i tried to explain that it was probably mixture of sadness to see someone deteriorate so quickly (i only met him three weeks ago and he looked like a regular old man- and now he is merely a shell); that maybe it was the Holy Spirit's presence; or that i reminds me of my own father's death. i wasn't sure.

charles began to remind me the bitter SWEETNESS of death is for those that follow Jesus. he told me about the practice of his people group in nigeria. i thought i'd share a bit about it here. it was quite inspiring for me to hear. in part b/c i think 3/4 of everything my husbands says is brilliant and in part b/c we americans (imho) suffer the effects of lots of stoicim and control over our emotions for fear that they get the best of us or get messy.

in igbouland (south eastern nigeria) if charles' father were to die- charles buddies from childhood would travel from wherever they are in nigeria to be with charles and his family (this would be the case for the eldest son- which is charles). charles' family would be the guest of honor at a party that would last all week.

each day, charles and his friends would dance with lots of vigor (he promises to show me this dance but assures me i will be taken aback at how vigorous it is) and run around the villiage (that is the villiage that his dad grew up in and that charles' family would visit every summer from lagos where charles grew up). they would have a big picture of patrick (my father in law) and run around and charles would shout "THIS IS MY FATHER! THIS IS MY FATHER!".

they would eat lots of food (rice and stew) and cry and wail and tell stories about patrick.

this ritual is practiced every five years in commemoration of the death as long as the family wants to host it. charles ended his description of the ritual by saying, "it's the most beautiful practice my people have".

wow. for whatever reason i was so- i don't know- stunned- by this description. i think we would do well to learn from it. what stunned me most is that it continues at five year intervals. when i think about my dad's passing- i know that the acuteness of the pain i experienced watching him die- and his absence- has subsided quite a bit. i pray that i got the most out of that pain that i could... but somehow it does seem important to have a time to say- 'it still hurts, we still miss him!'

and how does this translate to all the advent that my devotional life has been consumed with you ask? well i guess i'm just really smitten with the baby Jesus! while this isn't novel to people that know the Story of Redemption; Christmas is special to us christians not simply b/c it celebrates the birth of Jesus. Christmas is special b/c the incarnation was instrumental in the Blueprint. Jesus was born so that He could live a sinless life; but ultimately- His entrance was to come to earth and be put to death. to die a wrongful death so i could be right with God.
that- my friends is blowing my mind today.

in tranditional/ liturgical settings it is common to have a potion of the eucharist meal repeated by congregants. it rings through my ears today "we celebrate his death until his coming".
perhaps i would benefit from running around a bit more and yelling,
"THIS IS MY FATHER! THIS IS MY FATHER!".