Toys

 The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling    

One of my new and favorite meditation books is called The Language of Letting Go. Two post Christmas reflections encourage “growth” and “moving on.” How apt for my new-year’s resolutions! How apt for our pandemic hopes! It makes me wonder, “How do I let go of this past year, which was filled with personal, familial, and vocational challenges, and move on to yet another year of growth opportunities?”

I like the idea of old toys and new toys. With three grandchildren ranging in age from 3 to 1 1/2 years old, I’ve been learning all over again about toys. Some of the “old” toys are still the best. They have stood the test of time and still deliver! Some are broken and need repair or even the trash. Unfortunately, I’ve discovered that some toys don’t hold my attention any longer. So it is with me and my prayer life. So it is with me and some of my relationships, like with those squirrels at the birdfeeder. So it is with me in discovering new ways to let go, move on, and grow.

Melody Beattie writes, “Just as when we were children and grew out of favorite toys and clothes, we sometimes grow out of things as adults - people, jobs, homes. When we were children, we may have tried to fit into an outgrown article of clothing. Now, as adults, we may go through a time of trying to force-fit attitudes that we have outgrown. What worked last year, what was so important and special to us in times past, doesn’t work anymore because we’ve changed. We’ve grown. We can put away last year’s toys and make room for the new.”

Moving on involves letting go, which involves a process of grief. It can be confusing. There is a rainbow of feelings, changing daily like the news. The reasons for “letting go” and “moving on” are varied; and so the toy metaphor begs me to ask some questions, “What old toys do I need to leave behind in order to move forward? What new toys can I unwrap in this new year?”

Donna W. Michael, RIP

Celebration of the Life of Donna W. Michael      February 5, 1951 - November 21, 2020
Omps Funeral Home, Winchester, Virginia          1 Corinthians 13:1-13, John 14:1-6
The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling, virtual officiant

I am honored by Steve’s request for me to join you today and I only regret that my husband Paul and I cannot be with you in Virginia. I have heard so many stories about Donna and Steve over the years from my husband, who was a business partner of Steve’s and close friends of them both for decades. They are what Paul calls “foxhole” people. You never have to look over your shoulder to see if they are still there. When the chips are down, they are still at the table, and betting that in the end, Love wins.

These are hard times. Steve used the word “rough.” The winds of grief are blowing across our country, crossing our state lines, and leaving so many of us fearful, sick, and tired. Unexpected diagnoses and deaths, like Donna’s, have sent us reeling in disbelief. It is like pouring salt on a wound and into our broken hearts. Tears are real and appropriate, even as we gather to celebrate Donna’s wonderful life. She was one of a kind. And a very kind and loving one at that.

Listening to Steve talk about Donna reminded me of St. Paul’s letter to the church community gathered in Corinth. It is more often used at weddings, and yet this scripture passage is also relevant for this occasion. After all, these are sacred and special moments in our lives, like birthdays in February, and anniversaries in June. They are all about love, unselfish giving, and wanting to please another person. Donna was like that, a big-hearted and beautiful woman, who respected the dignity of every human being.

Donna was a person of faith, hope, and love; and today we celebrate her life and her love, most especially for Steve. She had faith in God. She had hope for better things to come. She had love. “No worries,” she said to Steve. “If the chips are down, we still have each other. When life is at its hardest, I will still be by your side.” She was happiest when she was with Steve; and as Victor Hugo once said, “to love another person is to see the face of God.”

At times like these, I trust in God’s promises, as revealed to us in the person of Jesus. I trust that this same God who created Donna and Steve, who created you and me, also loves us even beyond the grave. Jesus knew what it is like to grieve the loss of a loved one; Jesus also faced his own death unexpectedly and suddenly. When He knew that his end was near, and that his death was imminent, He gave his friends and disciples a new commandment: that they love one another as He had loved them. “Don’t worry,” He said. “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in me; believe also in God.”

God’s love is unconditional, undeserved, and eternal. On the other side of this dark day of loss is Resurrection life, when our Life will be transformed into something more glorious than we can ever imagine. “This is my way, my truth, and my life,” said Jesus. This is God’s Way of Love.

The gate to eternal life may seem rusty and creaky and in great need of repair right now. Such is the process of grief, and the journey we take without our loved ones. But on the road ahead, there is a mountain. And as the prophet Isaiah once said, “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-matured wines. And he will destroy the shroud that is cast over all peoples; he will swallow up death forever. Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces, and it will be said on that day, ‘Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us. Let us be glad and rejoice in our salvation.”

I believe that Donna is at peace on this holy mountain and has found a new room in God’s house. With her body restored to health, I imagine her planting vegetables in the garden, playing with Spanky and Buckwheat on the deck, feeding the birds in the air, and preparing gourmet meals in God’s kitchen, while trash talking with her friends. There she waits for Steve to join her one day.

Until then, “Look all around you,” she will say to us from that distant place, “and you will see signs of God’s love everywhere. You will hear me whisper in the silence, and you will know that I am there with you. Don’t stop sharing God’s love,” she will remind us. “Until we meet again, keep the faith. Hold onto hope. And love fiercely.” Amen.