GOD IS GOOD

This is really beautiful...God is not
sleeping.


Consumed by my loss, I didn't notice the
hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the
funeral of my dearest friend -- my mother. She
finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The
hurt was so intense; I found it hard to breathe at
times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest
at my school plays, held a box of tissues while
listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my
father's death, encouraged me in college, and prayed
for me my entire life.


When mother's illness was diagnosed, my sister
had a new baby and my brother had recently married
his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the
27-year-old middle child without entanglements, to
take care of her.. I counted it an honor. 'What now,
Lord?' I asked sitting in church. My life stretched
out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat
stoically with his face toward the cross while
clutching his wife's hand. My sister sat slumped
against her husband's shoulder, his arms around her
as she cradled their child. All so deeply grieving,
no one noticed I sat alone.


My place had been with our mother, preparing
her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the
doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible
together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was
finished, and I was alone. I heard a door open and
slam shut at the back of the church. Quick
footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. An
exasperated young man looked around briefly and then
sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed them
on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He
began to sniffle. 'I'm late,' he explained, though
no explanation was necessary.


After several eulogies, he leaned over and
commented, 'Why do they keep calling Mary by the
name of 'Margaret?''


'Because that was her name, Margaret. Never
Mary. No one called her 'Mary,'' I whispered. I
wondered why this person couldn't have sat on the
other side of the church He interrupted my grieving
with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger
anyway?


'No, that isn't correct,' he insisted, as
several people glanced over at us whispering, 'Her
name is Mary, Mary Peters.'


'That isn't who this is.'
'Isn't this the Lutheran church?'


'No, the Lutheran church is across the
street.'


'Oh.'


'I believe you're at the wrong funeral, Sir.'


The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the
realization of the man's mistake bubbled up inside
me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over
my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs.


The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks
from other mourners only made the situation seem
more hilarious.


I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man
seated beside me. He was laughing, too, as he
glanced around, deciding it was too late for an
uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing.


At the final 'Amen,' we darted out a door and into the parking lot.
'I do believe we'll be the talk of the town,' he smiled. He said his
name was
Rick and since he had missed his aunt's funeral,
asked me out for a cup of coffee.


That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me
with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but
was in the right place. A year after our meeting, we
were married at a country church where he was the
assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at the
same church, right on time.


In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter.
In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past
June we celebrated our twenty-second wedding
anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met,
Rick tells them, 'Her mother and my Aunt Mary
introduced us, and it's truly a match made in
heaven.'


(This was an e-mail that was sent to me by Cindy. MAN...she really has had some GREAT e-mails lately. This e-mail made me think about how me and Jeremy met. My dad always said, "God will bring someone to you when the time is right". Sure enough, GOD IS GOOD)