Читать книгу There Is A Time - A. Ray Lee - Страница 4

"To everything there is a season and a time … a time to be born and a time to die.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1,2)

On a bright April morning I lingered with young parents in a little church cemetery. The signs of new life and spring were all around. The sounds of cooing doves could be heard in the spreading cedar trees scattered among moss covered stones erected to the memory of loved ones gone but not forgotten.

In nearby groves, stately oak trees were clothed in delicate spring green as their leaves were emerging. Dogwoods boasted abundant blossoms. Grass was awakening from its dormant state to provide a lush carpet under foot. The only discordant color was a mound of red clay partially covered with a floral arrangement.

In their grief, the young couple talked wistfully of their joy over the birth of this child and their preparations for him. In anticipation of the time they would be able to bring him home, they had excitedly furnished a nursery and gathered together all the right things for his comfort and nourishment. After deliberation and discussion, they had chosen a name for him. They had wondered whose physical characteristics he would possess. Would he look like his mother or father? What interests would he develop in life? Would he be a scholar or an athlete? But these questions would not be answered for he never slept in his cradle nor saw the bright colors of the nursery. His valiant fight for life ended after a few brief hours of struggle.

At a different time and place I officiated at a service for one whose span of years had reached one hundred. After the memorial service, I slowly walked with his family through bone chilling winds a short distance for his interment. Winter’s rains had turned the brown sod to mush. Dark clouds scudded along above trees painted a dismal gray by the weather, with bare branches reaching upward into a bleak sky. No birds sang. There was not a sign of life anywhere. As the family found their place under the sheltering tent a cold rain began to fall.

When the brief interment service was completed, the family hurried into the church fellowship hall to escape the chill that had settled over them. I joined in for a warm cup of coffee and to share in the remembrance of one whose life had spanned a century.

Obviously the length of life for an infant and a centenarian differs greatly. As to why the difference, some would say each departed this life when “their time came." I will leave that debate to the theologians who have more knowledge than I. Nevertheless, through the years I have reflected upon the “three score and ten” theme in Psalms Ninety and the passage in Ecclesiastics dealing with “the times and seasons of life." Although we do not know in advance when that time will come, we do know it will surely come for each of us.

In over fifty-five years of ministry I have had the sacred privilege of ministering to hundreds of families in all seasons of life and as they have walked through the valley of the shadow of death. With them I have shared in both heartbreak and hope. At the urging of family and friends, and an inner prompting to record my experiences, I share the following stories. They are basically true but often details have been rearranged and names have been changed to conceal the identity of individuals. But all are representative of reality.

I write out of a background of ministry as a church pastor, part time hospital chaplain, hospice chaplain, sometimes counselor and, in my last years, as a funeral home assistant where I have sought to comfort countless grieving families.