The grief in the crowded room was evident. It dripped from the eyes of friends and loved ones simultaneously with the sweat that ran down the middle of their back. As friends filed in, the family in the front of the room waited with sorrow laced anticipation. It's a day that you hope never comes. To say good bye to a child, sibling, grandchild.
The summing up of ones life. It's a difficult task but one that with much reflection seems to be doable. The outward qualities of a person are tangible. The love for the outdoors, the love for adventure, the love and commitment to family. But to know someone. To really know their heart...that requires time and long nights around a campfire. It's the letting people in to the most intimateness of our soul. The feeling of community and friendships that lay in the crevasses of the places that remain unseen and hidden by those out of that circle.
The heart. To know the heart is a trickiness that few people can say they know about another. Jesus. Jesus knows. He feels the longing, hears the cries and is the one who answers back in a still small voice. The voice of a friend. Friendship deep and intimate.
I believe I have only been to a small handful of memorial services for the young. The young just aren't supposed to leave this earth until after they have completed their place in the circle of life. At least that's how it seems. But none the less, there are times when we say goodbye to those who go before us, even if they are the youthful, vibrant.
So we say goodbye to Dillon Smith at too young of an age. Or maybe we will just be saying farewell and we'll see you again on the shore of the sweet by and by. Only the one most aware of the heart really knows. For now we'll hang on to the hope of God's promises and stay close to The Maker, living each day for all it's worth.
