Only Four Words

This week I had an unexpected, in the end helpful and I think healthy, exchange with the leadership of a local Mennonite congregation. I pass this church several times a week on my way to take Kali to school. (I should note as a backdrop to this story that I don't tend to be overly appreciative of the little phrases that are chosen for church signs. I usually am able to laugh, shrug them off or just realize that it may just be another way that I'm unusual; I find advertisements to be pretty obnoxious a lot of the time too.)

This one, however, got me. It made me mad. It made me sad. It felt trite, and uncaring, and out of touch with the lives of real people - likely more than just me - driving by. Only four words, but they stung: "Death died on Easter."

I feel quite certain that there was no mal-intent on the part of the sign chooser - and that was graciously confirmed and the sign changed in less than 24 hours after I sent an email expressing my concern on how the sign could be perceived by families who are "freshly" grieving the loss of a loved one or who are currently journeying with a loved one who is dying, as a close friend of mine is doing right now with her mother.

I also realize that there may be some who actually find these words comforting. And some who would feel more theologically in tune with the sentiments behind this phrase. That being said, it is hard for me to imagine that a large percentage of persons driving on this main thoroughfare would not find the sign either perplexing or offensive.

It is quite clear that people are still losing loved ones on a daily basis. People are dying - whether my friend's mom to cancer or persons embroiled in conflicts raging across our globe. And those that have died are missed. Those left behind grieve.

It's not that I've been blind to the new life all around us this spring - the lambs frisking about in the pasture on my way to work, calves coming up to the fence to see us when we pass on our walks, yellow flowers everywhere popping up amazingly often in sets of three, babies of friends being born and the rising excitement in our household over the chicks that will be arriving in less than a week. It's not that I don't celebrate those welcome signs of the earth rejuvenating and the cycle of life continuing. Somehow, though, I want to move towards a place in my life where I can more readily accept, celebrate, grieve, and be part of the full cycle.

Just today I had one of those moments where I had a pang of guilt for soaking up a tender moment with Kali. We were outside and it felt so like the few days we went out last spring with Nora in the snuggli. Irrational or no, I felt like I was somehow being untrue to Nora's memory to be happy to be there, Kali and I, enjoying the fresh air and warmer temperatures (there without her). Death is a very real part of our family's journey right now. For me Easter does not bring with it any magic power to remove death from our lives, though it may symbolize in the tradition I'm steeped in that there are ways in which those who live faithfully, courageously and fully continue to be present to inspire, encourage and spur us on.