praise the Lord

My neighbor D died a week ago. She was 84 years old. She and her husband had been married for 62 years.

They had lived together in the house across the street from me for over 40 years (well, they lived in that house for over 40 years; I've only been across the street from them for 18).

Together they had 9 children. More than 20 grandchildren, more than 20 great grandchildren.

Their son V who still lives with them came to tell me. I gave him a hug and said I would be over in a while with some food.

So I made gallon or more of lentil soup, a green bean casserole and two sweet potato pies. With my husband K we walked over when he got home and delivered the food.

V was convinced he had sent me a telepathic message about the sweet potato pie.

That was Friday.

Sunday I brought over macaroni & cheese and brownies in the late morning. Then we went to visitation in the afternoon.

It was an open casket. She was dressed in a gold dress that she wore when she and her husband renewed their vows on the occasion of their 60th wedding anniversary.

There was also a video slide show of photos of her life.

I went to the funeral on Tuesday morning. It was at a Detroit church with a mainly African-American congregation. It was touching to see literally hundreds of people turning out to show their respects.

There were six clergy listed on the full - color, multi-page program. Much was made of the comment D made in her youth that she didn't want to marry a preacher or a farmer-- and the man she married was called to both professions.

Interesting to me was that there were microphones in the congregation as well as on the pulpit. It was clear that this was a very participatory congregation.

The speakers, one and all, commenced with Praise the Lord and sprinkled the rest of their comments with more PTLs and multiple Amens. There was humor and song and tenderness and tension.

A comment that struck me most was the one made by a clergyman to my neighbor, the new widower. This clergyman, too, had lost a wife after many years.

He said: You won't get over this, but you will get through it.

Amen. Praise the Lord.

I went home. Made four more sweet potato pies, and kissed my husband.

Amen. Praise the Lord.