As I sit here in front of my computer, writing this piece, many thoughts are running through my mind. Tomorrow, here in the States, our income taxes are due. Lest I dwell too long on a somewhat unpleasant subject, I’ll hurry on.

I’m thinking about this afternoon. My wife’s sister and her husband are coming over to our home to renew their wedding vows. They’ve had many happy years together and just want to reaffirm their love and commitment to each other. In a country where just about one out of two marriages end up in divorce, this will be a beautiful experience. A few other family members will witness their renewal.

Also running through my mind are several E-mails I found in my box this morning. These particular messages, mixed in with a lot of humor and news, will require some thoughtful, hopefully wise answers. Some folks are asking for counsel. Others are sharing comments on these pieces I write every week. Still others are sharing a rather desperate need for understanding, empathy, sympathy, and caring.

Overshadowing all these thoughts is a reality that I don’t want to face. Tonight, I’m going to the building where I worship each week and sing a couple of “Grandma’s Songs” at a memorial service for a good friend. We’re all in the process of dying since the day we’re born. However, it was different for my friend. He knew for sure that his life would be measured in months rather than many years.

I first met him when he moved into a small house next door to our church building. We call it Grace House. I was impressed from the very beginning with his mind and personality. He was a friendly, outgoing sort. Always willing to engage in conversation. His smile was contagious. He laughed easily.

When “Grandma’s Songs” first came out, I gave him a cassette. He was genuinely pleased and thanked me often for sharing the music with him. After a period of time, he moved a few miles away. Our main contact was through our monthly newsletter. Occasionally, he’d manage to get back to one of our worship services. In fact, he was sitting on the back pew just a couple of weeks ago. We hugged; we chatted; we enjoyed our time together.

In our weekly get together, our pastor and I talked about his downhill slide. I learned that they’d planned his memorial service together. Can you imagine participating in plans for your own service? I realize that it makes sense to have input in such an important event, but it’s also a frank admission that the inevitable may be near.

When my friend went Home to be with Jesus a few days ago, I learned that he’d specifically requested that I sing some of “Grandma’s Songs”. The selection was left up to me. I picked “I Won’t Have To Cross Jordan Alone” and “Precious Memories”.

So, today, as I sit here in front of my computer. While handling the variety of circumstances in which I find myself today, in the back of my mind I’m thinking about the memorial service tonight. Can I sing these songs without weeping? I don’t know. I want to do a good job for my friend and his family who will be there. However, I am fighting strong feelings about the unfairness of it all.

You see, my friend died at an early age from a horrible disease. He wasn’t promiscuous. He didn’t share dirty drug needles. He got a tattoo. One of the pieces of equipment was contaminated. My friend died from AIDS. I know he’s in a better place. I know that he wouldn’t want to come back to the pain. I know he’s enjoying the presence of the Lord at this very minute. However, I also know that I won’t see his grin again until I, too, arrive at my final destination. I’m going to miss him.

WHAT ARE THE LIFE LESSONS
IN THIS FOR ME?

• Make the most of relationships with those whom the Lord brings across your path.
• Make sure of your own ultimate destination.
• Don’t be uneasy at the prospect of sharing in the celebration of someone’s life.
• It’s okay to cry! Ps. 30:5, “…weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”

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