What is this place…
What is this place where we are meeting? Only a house, the earth its floor,
walls and a roof sheltering people, windows for light, an open door.
Yet it becomes a body that lives when we are gathered here,
and know our God is near.
Huub Oosterhuis, Zomaar een dak boven wat hoofden, 1968
(from Hymnal: A Worship Book)
in our family circle. Holy moments in this veil of tears–valley of the shadow. On the horizen of eternity–we are present with each other.
Simple, profound presence. Embrace and space. Words and silence. Silence in which emotions and unspoken words contain holy mystery. In our souls we hold the presence of each other like a precious gift. Our hearts awash with past, present, and future memories–with graces visible and invisible.
We gather at farm, at table. We mourn. Tears and laughter are gifts.
We gather together, our stories deeply interwoven with each other and with the divine story. At this portal where life and death meet…heaven and earth…time and eternity–our stories uncover something holy–a mystery.
And we are aware of our lives joined together with those no longer present with us in body. We are connected in the very fiber of our being in a sacred communion uniting past, present, and future. A communion that transcends time and space. Our minds cannot grasp it, but we feel this deeply.
In this place of mourning, our roots press into the soil of our stories.
The ground of our being.