Life is funny and generous, I think. I’m still surprised by the way circumstances collaborate to put us with people who enrich our lives immeasurably.
This week, it has been so fulfilling to spend extended time with a woman to whom I’m connected through two marriages (mine and hers), but who is closer than family. It doesn’t hurt that she is gifted at flattery, but it goes deeper than my own ego-gratification– she really seems to get me.
So I know that when she leaned over to me in church this past Sunday to tell me that the next song (“Sing, O Sky”) was her “funeral song,” she wasn’t trying be morbid or sick or weird. She knows that I wasn’t going to think that she is unhealthy, but very healthy and whole to be in constant consideration of her own mortality. She also knows that I would be unable to sing for weeping, and that this song will be forever transformed for me. She knows that every time I hear it, I’ll hope that I can live long enough to sing it in celebration of her life well-lived. And I suspect that she sees it as a way to gently remind me that I’m older than her, so I probably won’t get that satisfaction.
Postscript: Driving down the mountain from church, The Wife reminded me that we first heard that song from The Psalters. So I asked my SIL about it, and she remembered that she first heard it when The Psalters were spending several months living at their church. So could it be a Psalters’ song? I can’t seem to google it, so I’m thinking it may be so. Which would only add credence to my theory that all good worship music is somehow connected to those crazy nomadic bus-dwelling people.
Post, Post-postscript: I obviously have a lot to learn about google: