Part of Me

My coffee sat on the nightstand as I perched comfortably in bed. Ready to work, I opened my laptop only to stare at a dim screen. Confused, I rechecked the plugs and found the problem. 

Eggs, the cat, chewed my power cord.

Several computer glitches have slowed progress this month. Most of them have bogged down the completion of my manuscript. But it's almost done and Don fixed my power cord. So I'm up and running again today.

That said, while I started a blog post last week, I never finished it. My thoughts wouldn't come to a close. I'd promised a friend I would keep it light, but lived a weeks worth of heavy instead.

Unable to surface in time for an encouraging end, I let the new week start and figured I'd try again.

But even as I start to write tonight, the heaviness lingers. My friend, Bonnie, is nearing the end of her ALS fight and has been making plans as the end draws near.

When I went over to feed her dinner last Wednesday, she asked if I would sing at her funeral. Of course I agreed, especially since I'd started writing a song for the service a few days earlier. 

The timing proved providential when Lu, her caretaker, later mentioned they had plans to visit the funeral home the following day to pick out a coffin and fill out necessary paperwork. Knowing I'd be close by at the designated time, I decided to try and finish the song and surprise them at their appointment.

It worked.

The song flowed Thursday morning. So after we picked out the perfect blue coffin and the paperwork was done, we went to the chapel where I sang Bonnie her song.

It was surreal.

I've written several songs for funerals and though it's a rather odd talent, I simply hold my breath and swim to the thin place where a lifetime flows into lyrics.

While I've gone under more than once in search of words, I've never performed someone's song for them before they died. Until last week.

As we crossed the funeral home lobby on our way to the chapel, a grown man's sobs bellowed from behind a closed door. Family members stood pensive in the lobby. 

I avoided eye contact, wanting to just get through the special moment with Bonnie. But as we left the chapel, a middle aged woman thanked me for the music and I learned her husband's father had died unexpectedly. 

I was thankful to know they hadn't lost a child. But if I close my eyes, I can still feel the reverberations from the man's heartfelt cries. 

Many others have had reason to cry this week. The suffering is immense. All over the world. Multiply that mans' sobs by the number of lives lost in Paris, and the emotion starts to sink me.

I can't make sense of it all. I can only trust the love that died to set us free. 

Thus I wrote Bonnie's song to capture the beauty of a life well lived; a life that has touched mine and many others as she's drawn near to heaven's shores.  

But since it deals with loss and may minister to others, will you consider sharing it on FB or twitter or however?

I'd love to pass it on for Bonnie will always be... Part of Me.




photo credit: Coffee meant something different back then via photopin (license) photo credit: iPhone Eiffel Tower #4 via photopin (license)