Today, I went to church for the "Celebration of the Life" of six-year-old Hugh who died a week ago today. I wore silver stars and a silver angel dangling from a silver chain. The usher led me to a seat in the choir, just a few feet from the string quartet, the organ, and the soloists. It was a musical feast for my soul. The wooden choir stalls, the limestone, and the Episcopal ritual reminded me of my childhood Fridays at chapel in the National Cathedral. For the beauty of the earth... he leadeth me beside the still waters... The purple headed mountain, the river running by, the sunset and the morning that brightens up the sky.
The stars link back to my post from a week ago today: http://yearring.blogspot.com/2011/02/when-heaven-opens.html, to the Inuit proverb, "Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy."
The angel was a gift from a student named Andrew some 17 years ago. I've treasured it in my holiday drawer all these years, and smiled a hello as I see it several times a year. Andrew died in a single-car crash a couple of years after he graduated from my school's 8th grade. Today my thoughts were full of Andrew, of my cousins Brad and Ben, and of others who died too young. My cup runneth over?