I’ve just returned from a 24 hour trip to NJ for a funeral, and it always strikes me how you can be so busy, busy, busy
with your everyday life, and then when someone dies, you just have to stop and immerse yourself in that experience. And while I mourn greatly for the family members, this was not someone whose absence I will feel in my own life. In short, I could very easily get back to the busy-ness
I was doing a few days ago.
But sometimes these experiences change you. Sometimes it is a good thing to be plucked from your daily grind, and removed to someplace that can give you a little perspective. Get out of your little bubble, so to speak.
For the last three weeks, for various reasons, I’ve been feeling a bit like I’ve been on some kind of acid trip (or what I imagine an acid trip to be like…). You know what I mean, like you’re standing still and the room is whipping around you, and the colors are so neon bright and incredibly vivid, and every moment and emotion is just more intense – so intense that it can be physically painful. I really, really wanted to go to the top of the proverbial mountain and yell STOP to the world, just to give me a chance to catch my breath.
Ask, and you shall receive.
Though entirely unfortunate, God definately put this experience in my life at this moment because I needed it. There was simply no other way I was going to be able to get out of my acid trip without a little help.
And while the whole world didn’t stop, my little world hit the pause button for 24 hours. Just enough time to refocus. While I certainly love my children, being around them doesn’t often allow for quiet reflection time like I’ve been craving. Heck, I can’t even go to the bathroom in peace these days. So you can see why this was so good for me.
The gentleman who died lived an exemplary life. Worked at the same job since 1972. President of multiple organizations. Army major. Extremely active in his church. Smart as the dickens. Wonderful family -married for 49 years with 6 kids and 15 grandkids. And the stories people shared of his generosity and kindness were incredible. There were well over 250 people at the church this morning, probably more. There wasn’t a person who left that mass who didn’t want to be more like him, including me.
So it was a combination of events – a brief visit with an old college buddy, time with some favorite relatives I stayed with, a quick run on the beach of my youth where I got sand between my toes and deeply inhaled the sea air, an intense amount of seriousness and focus on the deceased’s life, and just time alone with my thoughts – this is what calmed everything down, and brought the bed spins to a slow, safe, and healthy, stop.
And now that I’m home, the colors have returned to normal.