The last month or so I have been to two funerals. That's two more than the entire first half of my life. And I'm a short distance ticket on the light rail to 50.
As a child I flat refused to go. I didn't understand the significance.
When my great-aunt Doris passed away (at about 97 or so) I refused to go to her funeral. I thought Aunt Doris was pretty cool and I was angry with those who hadn't seen her the last few years of her life, when I knew her. I saw their arrival at her funeral as a bit of hypocrisy.
Like I said, I didn't understand.
My thoughts started to change when my Dad died. I remember hugging the flag they gave me at the veteran's cemetery after the salute by the guns. I pretty much hugged that flag the rest of the day. Susan gave me a case for it and now it is a part of our living room.
People came to my Dad's funeral I hadn't seen in a long while. My old buddy Dave (who my parents never liked too much!) showed up. I was thankful he was there.
My half sister, who I hadn't met before and haven't seen since, was there. I'm not sure why she suddenly appeared, as she had rarely (not in years) communicated with our Dad, but I could accept it easier than before. Some in my family thought she showed to insure her share of any inheritance, but I want to think it was more.
She sure looked a lot more like Dad than I did! Poor girl. I hope she is doing well and spent her share in a good way.
I guess it's about understanding. Understanding, I'm thinking, about the place in our lives of those we love and care about. And our place in theirs.
And that we can love someone and be connected even if we don't see them for a long time. And that maybe we are connected even to those we profess not to care about.
I've been to two funerals in the last month or so. I have watched as people that have lost those near and dear to them say goodbye. I have seen courage and people with a faith in something or someone higher cope with life's hardest trial.
I don't go to church. It was force fed to me as a child and I suppose I'm in permanent rebellion. If pressed I would tell you I believe in a life force, and that force is present in all of us, and in everything about us.
I believe in the miracle of life and doing well unto others, but I have no motive like getting to heaven or avoiding hell driving me.
Maybe I believe in karma more than confessionals.
As you can probably tell, I don't really care for organized religion. The pope and the Catholic Church and all the folks who elect others and dress them in robes and tall hats and call them holy baffle me.
People that blow themselves and others to bits in the name of jihad baffle me. Jihad itself baffles me. Holy war? How can you have a holy war?
People that build statues of fat men sitting cross legged and then worship before them baffle me. People killing each other or seeking to control others in the name of religion depress me.
I have read writings of the Dalai Lama, and he comes the closest to what I feel as anyone. But in the end, his thoughts and beliefs go so far beyond me that I am, in the end, baffled by him, too.
Yet, when I see my friends in pain and struggling to cope, I wish I had their faith.
I would like your input on this, but please don't invite me to your church. Unless of course, you are willing to visit mine. My church is 8 miles of running on a Sunday morning, or a field of wildflowers early in the day.
My church doesn't advocate killing, but breathes in the scent of a clearing storm. My church doesn't condemn or advocate, doesn't endorse or disgrace. it's just there when I come looking.
My faith doesn't include you or have white robes and golden hats to dress you up with, yet it doesn't seek to exclude you, either.
Still, I struggle to understand faith. Any thoughts?