First Death of A Friend

"Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed--" Corinthians 15:51.

At this point in my life there are days when I feel fully saturated with theology. If someone says one more word to me about GOD and his mercies, there are times in those moments when I want to scream. All I've known is Christianity. My family is a very religious Brethren (Methodist) set with very "Sithian" values. Black is black, White is white and any grey areas have to be fought over, verified and accepted (by a man of course) to be of any religious worth.

Growing up this way I now realise, made me have a very polar thought pattern. I was not easily molded outside the church. You may think that in the end that simply make me a very good church girl, who covered her head and prayed daily. Not so. I made noise about women's roles in church and questioned many "religious" practices. Eventually, I (stopped attending my church) and decided to explore other religious options - ones which I believe will allow me to grow with GOD, not stifle my growth.

One recent Saturday morning, I was once again passively ejected into the religious world of my youth with the death of a friend. Henry Richard Horatio George Webster, my uncle and friend to many people in the missionary community home and abroad.

Now, the Thanksgiving Services for my family members are always events of celebration. When the tributes and eulogy's are read, I always feel as if I'm a part of a legacy of "ever-living" legends. Of course, having rebelled against my Brethren beliefs long ago, I sat a little uncomfortable in the church chair (some of us have graduated from hard wooden pews), reminiscing on old hymns like "How Great Thou Art" and thinking that maybe I had given up more than was needed.

My uncle, was indeed a legend. His initials have been referred to as "His Royal Highness" because of his manner to be stately at all times, slow to speak but quick to point and always following after what I've often heard referred to as "the kingdom of GOD".

However, the things that touched me the most were not his religious accolades but the fact that he was indeed human. Loosely put "He liked the ladies" one would say. And according to another funeral report, was a noted troublemaker in his own humorous way. He fell asleep while driving long (and short) distances and he'd been known to be a little heavy on the gas before the responsibility of family.

At the end of the two hour service, you could truly see that he was indeed a friend loved by many.

So, it has made me wonder a bit about my own life and friendships. I have not yet lost someone close to me, someone who I call "My friend". But if I were to die, would there be any mention of a good nature and a true human spirit? Or would there be not that much to say at all?