The day before my birthday I write my eulogy.
It’s one of the homework assignments for the Lay Pastor program I am in and I’ve had a whole month to do it. But I can’t seem to enter into it so I wait until the last day before class to sit down with myself. And before my classmates sing “Happy Birthday” to me; before the cake and the musical candle…I have already died.
The class is on pastoral care and it is taught by a husband and wife team, she—on faculty at Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminaryand a licensed marriage and family counselor, he—a chaplain at a psychiatric hospital. They talkto us about listening and presence and how chickens are like people. It’s the most amazing class and these two teachers—in the way they care for each other and us all weekend long—they show us what pastoral care really is.
But it’s when we complain about the eulogy that everything that has been churning and roiling all falls calm.
It’s hard to companion someone in something where you yourself are unwilling to go, he says.
And I know he is right.
We go around the room and read our eulogies. We die together. We weep.
And we are reborn.
How do you embrace the God-joy? Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us:
the Playdates button:
Sharing with L.L. Barkat today also: