Today I attended the funeral of Pastor Fernando's father. Pastor drives the van that takes us to and from school. He is also the pastor at the church next to the school. He called me at 6AM to let me know what had happened and that there wouldn't be any classes today. So all of us that work at the school went to Pastor's house and then to the cemetery. I have been to a visitation before, but not the funeral. The family and friends take care of the body, casket, and burial. A couple of pastors spoke at the cemetery. The family throws the first few handfuls or shovelfuls of dirt onto the casket. We don't normally see that in the states. I don't know how to express my thoughts or feelings as I heard that dirt hit the casket. Definitely, I had never heard that sound before. Even though it was a sad day for the family, it was also a time of rejoicing because he, the pastor's father, had served the Lord and was ready to go. He was 90 years old.
I remember thinking dust to dust and ashes to ashes. Eva said she wasn't ready to die. I believe I am. I always think of my own funeral when I go to someone else's, and have for years. But I was thinking about all the things that we experience in our lives, good and bad. And I was thinking that none of us remember our birth. And I thought ok, dying will be an experience that we have to go through and will be conscious through a lot of it. Psalms 23 speaks about walking through the valley of the shadow of death. Pastor Gruver said that a shadow does not hurt. And the Lord promised to walk with us. No, I don't have a death wish!!!!!! Heaven forbid. It's just that funerals cause me to think about death, dying, and the Lord's promises to us. And everybody says they want to see him, but they don't want to die to do it. A paradox, I believe. Enough of that, and now on to the living.
It's time to get ready for an English class with Elida.
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