Unseasonably hot weather today. The warmest day of the summer. Lynne and I attended the funeral service of a sweet lady, Joyce, who had died of cancer last weekend.
We had first met her at St Nicholas church.
And Lynne in particular warmed to this beautifully uncomplicated and innocent creature. In a world stuffed full of characters with outsize egos she was a refreshing change. One of the highlights of attending the Sunday morning service was having a coffee with Joyce afterwards.
I sat, as men do, next to the aisle, and would hold my hand out as she returned from the communion rail, and we touched fingers. The experience was electrifying. It was a joy.
Lynne and I hadn’t attended St Nicholas since last winter, but after reading of Joyce’s death on Facebook last weekend we determined to attend her funeral, and our experience there has persuaded us to rejoin the throng there on Sunday next.
With Joyce’s body at the front of the church we sang “When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation, And take me home”…
Joyce has now been taken home, and at the end of the service a packed house walked out to a most beautiful song from Les Miserables, which might have been written for the occasion.
Lynne and I have often mused that the Les Miserables story is uncannily like Jesus’ message. It is a parable of love, sacrifice and – above all else,
– which is the central theme not only of Christianity but of every God given philosophy worth its salt.
A karaoke version is appended, so that you can belt it out in the safety of your own living room. But as you do I ask that you say a prayer for Joyce, who God took home last weekend.
Thank you Joyce. We both look forward to touching fingers with you in the not too distant future.