Round the Sphere Again: A Funeral Edition

Updated with a new link below.

Costly Death
I bet you’ve heard it read at funerals: “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.” It’s a lovely thought, and undoubtedly true, but D. A. Carson argues that this bit of Psalm 116 might best be translated with a whole different spin. (For the Love of God)

Seeking a Homeland
John Bird asks, “Why Do Funerals Make Me Homesick?” For me it’s weddings, too, and for pretty much exactly the same reason, I think.

Added June 25: Service Essentials
Four things that must be proclaimed at a funeral. (Brian Croft)

Boys Will Be Boys

I first posted this five years ago. Things are changing in my family, you know. I might be feeling a little longing for the old days.

I’ve never met a little boy that didn’t love playing superhero.  If they don’t have a real superhero costume, a pair of briefs over long underwear and a towel-cape will do. If you let them (or you’re not looking) they’ll take flying leaps across the livingroom from the coffee table or the back of the couch. It’s always cute, sometimes annoying, and possibly dangerous, depending on what superhero he is, what superfeat he’s attempting, and how many other superheroes there are in the room.

Playing superhero is fun, for sure, but it’s also very important work—purposeful work. When the caped pretender turns 12 or 13, give or take a few years, you’ll see him begin to unfold into a real hero.

The metamorphosis might start with a bit of a bad attitude. He thinks he knows better than his parents; he thinks he’s invincible; and he doesn’t like taking instruction. This can be a difficult stage, because he doesn’t know better than his parents, he’s not invincible, and goodness knows, he needs instruction more than he ever did. This stage of hero development is not much fun, but parents who hang in there may see that this, too, has a purpose.

Youngest daughter is twenty-one and works at a gym. A week or so ago she came home and told us about her day. A young man, a customer at the gym who is the same age as youngest son and still in high school, had been hassling her.

“We should hang out sometime,” he said. He was nothing if not persistent, even though she thought she was obvious in her refusal.

Oldest son’s response? “I should have a talk with him.” Youngest son? “I’ll beat him up!”

As it turns out, her boss had overheard things and he had a talk with the young man, so  it was all resolved without any help from her brothers.

Yes, youngest son needs to learn a better approach to fixing these sorts of problems—a better step one, anyway. I expect that to come with time. A year ago, however, it would never have crossed his mind that this situation might require something of him.

He’s one step closer to becoming a hero, and that, really, is what the briefs pulled up over the long johns when he was five were all about. Boys will be boys, and that’s a good thing, because it’s working to turn them into men.

Thankful Thursday

This year has been a big year for wildlife spotting in this family. Just this week, youngest daughter almost ran into a big lynx—as tall as our golden retriever, she says—while running the dogs on the local ski trails. A few minutes ago, there was a little fox, not nearly as tall as our golden retriever, standing right below the window that was beside me as I sat at the dining room table. Just now, youngest daughter told me that she saw him curled up sleeping right on the street when she drove home from work at 4AM. And, she says, there is a mama fox and three babies that live right beside the Air North buildings where she works and she sees them out and about quite often. I’m guessing that some the abundance of animals (We’ve also seen a moose, a bear, and multiple coyotes rather close to our home.) has to do with the particular place we are in the population cycle of some of the rodent species. Whatever the reason, it makes me thankful for the animals God made and placed, and for my home here where the animals are.

I’m thankful for rain yesterday, for potato plants coming up in the garden, for rhubarb picked and already made into sauce and pie, and for rhubarb ready to pick again.

I’m thankful that God spoke—in creation, in scripture, and in Christ—so that we can know him truly.

On Thursdays throughout this year, I plan to post a few thoughts of thanksgiving along with Kim at the Upward Call and others. Why don’t you participate by posting your thanksgiving each week, too? It’ll be an encouragement to you and to others, I promise.