Hey Jesus, I Need a Little Help Here

It was time to go upstairs and do what I had prayed for seven years not to do. She was eight years old and I had walked the road of constant chemotherapy and radiation with her parents for seven of her eight years. At least three times the odds dictated that she would not make it. Every time she paid no attention to the odds and continued to dance. She loved to dance.

Every morning I started my prayer time out in the tradition of the Jewish way of "demanding" something from God in a very bold way. We Christians clean up spirituality and make it "nice" but in our heritage the Hebrew scriptures are full of "in your face" language. So I said to God, "I do not want to do her funeral." Then I went on and prayed for her and her dear parents.

I guess it sounds selfish but so be it. Yesterday I had to do her funeral. I was with her when she struggled to breathe her last. I saw the pain in the face of the parents who held her as they said their goodbyes. I wrapped my arms around the three of them knowing that all I could do was "tell" God to wrap bigger arms around them.

But it was time to go upstairs and do her funeral. There would be dance, and celebrative songs, and planned laughter to go with the tears...but...I still had to "do" it. I had seven years of requests built up in me and I was a bit worried about "how I would do." I knew me. I wrote her a poem and I crafted a service of celebration. It all looked good on paper, but I now had to do it.

As I started to walk out of the office a bit of fear and emotion swept over me. That was not good. So I turned back and walked over to my wall that held a special crucifix given to me by Edith. Edith took that large crucifix off her mother's chest. Edith' s mother requested that she be buried "with him." But just before they closed the casket Edith reached in and grabbed Jesus and said to her mother, "Mother I need him more than you do."

For many years he hung on Edith's wall and she told me that she would look up at him looking down at her and he always helped her in time of need. Edith asked me to come by to see her before I moved from the church I had served for eight years. I was her pastor and she was undergoing treatments for cancer.

She brought me up close to him, hanging on the wall and she told me the story of her grabbing him. Then she reached up and took him off the wall and handed him to me, "Here, you need him now."

I did Edith's funeral a few years ago and I brought him with me. I again took him off the wall and told her story. I said to all who listened that he was Edith's but she had given him to me and I still needed him.

So...yesterday I walked over to that wall and I looked up at him looking down at me. I cried a bit and said, "OK, I need you." I did not "hear" any response but there was one. Edith heard it too. I walked upstairs and lead a church full of people in a real celebration. I "did" fine. All kinds of people beginning with her dear parents hugged me and thanked me and told me what a marvelous job I "did." I thanked them and told them it was a honor to have been invited in to such a sacred space with this dear family.

I "held up" fine. My fear of coming apart was contained. I walked downstairs and back into my office. I took off my robe. I walked over to him. I leaned up against the wall and I looked up at him and I came apart. I leaned against the wall and I leaned against him....and as I softly cried I looked up into his face with his silent head leaning down from his cross and I said, "Thank you...thank you."

I suppose it is what this week ahead we call Holy is all about...
Thank you....thank you.

jody