I leaned up against the wall in a strangers home wondering what was next. I stared at the open coffin sitting on the floor in front of me. Another coffin, another church member, and another funeral in less than a months time for our team.
I sat and stared at the coffin that was overflowing with vibrant flowers. All you could see was her face that was covered in the yellow powder that the Muslims use. She had two red powder dots placed on her forehead. I remember sitting there and how hard it was to breath. The over powering smell of incense was feeling my lungs and it was burning. It hurt. I watched as the incense burned down and the ash covered the bananas that were sitting below. I thought it was odd. The sticks were stuffed in-between the bananas as a holder of sorts. Beside it sat a picture of the church member in a frame that was draped with blue flowers.
I looked directly across from me and watched as the sister of the lady brushed the tears off her face as she leaned over the coffin. She was mourning the unexpected loss. The church sister who passed away was a new believer. I remember being in her home previously when pastors wife asked me to pray over their family. I more so remember that being the first night that I was served the rose flavored drink. Trust me, you shouldn’t drink flowers. I gagged several times trying to man up and drink it out of respect. Then the lady came around with a second serving of the rose flavored drink. I couldn’t do it. Some how I managed to pass it off to a team mate who didn’t have the same gag response as I did.
This month has brought our team face to face with lots of death. Deaths here, as well as deaths back home. The beginning of the month a teammate learned that her fathers friend committed suicide. The same night we had prayer service at a church members’ home when pastor pulled me aside and asked if we could go pray for uncle Paul’s daughter because she was ready to “release herself.” She went to heaven that night. Then a couple nights ago my phone started ringing at 12:15 AM with a call from the office in the states. I knew something was wrong due to the timing of the call. My heart sank.
I answered the phone to hear our squad mentors voice apologizing for the late call but asking to talk to a teammate. I woke Kristy up and passed the phone on to her. She got the news that a close family friend had passed away. We talked to her about it and prayed before we went back to resting. The same day we got the news of the death of the church member (side note, can I just say how difficult it is typing on a train while rocking back and forth in a bed…this should be a skill). We asked what happened to the church member and the first response was “don’t know, maybe devil strangled her, spiritual attack.” The car went dead silent after that.
I read a book a few days ago called “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.” It was about a guy trying to write a better story for his life. I got it. I got everything he said. Seeing death so much makes me want to write a better story. One of my favorite lines in the book is a rather simple line, but quite profound. It reads “don’t allow spectators at your parade.” Now you are thinking “what?” It is talking about not allowing people to just watch your life, but inviting them in to participate in it.
I wondered what the ladies’ story was that passed away? What story did she write with her life? I didn’t know much about her, and to be honest, I can’t even tell you her name. I knew she was a new believer. I knew she had two teenage sons and her husband works in Singapore. That is all I knew about her. I felt convicted that I didn’t do much to invite her into my life or even take time to ask her about her story.
Sometimes I tend to overlook people in life. However each random passerby in my life is living a life as vivid and complex as my own…populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness. Their life is an epic story that continues invisibly around me like an anthill sprawling deep underground. It is a life with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that i’ll never know existed. I might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a flash of traffic passing on the highways, as a lightened window at dusk…or maybe l’ll become another epic story line in the person life, just maybe…Maybe the random passerby and I will be the ones sitting in the background together enjoying the coffee one day. Maybe the random passerby’s aren’t as random as I think.
I wish everyone knew just how precious and valuable life really is. I know so many people who are going to look back and realize they spent their life devoured in possessions instead of experience. I watch people work their life away instead of investing time with family and relationships. We spend years of our lives living stories that people don’t want to hear be re-told but yet we expect our lives to me meaningful.
What story is your life going to tell? Are you living a meaningful life? Are people watching your life play out, or are you inviting them in? When will you change it? When will you start writing a better story? Don’t sit there and think you have time to change it later; you never know when your life will end…
