This week, I attended a Celebration of Life of a young mother who was a member of our church. I witnessed something I had never seen before. The woman’s husband chose to have the service at church. I arrived almost at the time the service was to begin. The sanctuary was filled almost to capacity.
I noticed that no one was talking above a whisper, if at all. The two ladies I sat between and I did a little bit. I had gotten an order of service page and the older lady said she lost hers. My younger friend went to get another one for her.
In the service the pastor commented on the peace he felt when he entered there. During the time of sharing, we heard from her son as he read from her journal and her niece, who read a letter one of her daughters had written to her mother. This was a hard service for the pastor to do. He had dedicated this woman when she was a three-year-old. Eighteen years ago, he officiated at her wedding. A few times I detected tears in his voice.
As I walked out of the church, I called to a friend who came back and we talked a bit. I commented about the quietness of the sanctuary in spite of the large amount of people. She responded, “That’s what happens when the Holy Spirit is present.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. She gave me pause for a moment. After we talked and some others came up and spoke to us, we departed, each to our separate routes home.
Ever since, I reflected on what I saw and experienced. I saw two small girls crying their eyes out because Mommy was gone. I saw both Daddy and Brother comforting these girls with the help of the Holy Spirit guiding them through their own time of grief. I will never forget seeing this scene.