"... in the end is harvest."

Love is not changed by death and nothing is lost, and all in the end is harvest' - Julian of Norwich

I saw this quote today leafing through what I, as a Catholic, would call the mistlette sitting in a pew at the Temple Beth Shalom.

I was attending the funeral service of a colleague of my husbands. I didn't know Steve much at all. I met him on only a handful of occasions in the 2 short years that I have had a connection with Salem Oregon.
Yet somehow I knew I needed to be at this service to say good bye.

Odd thing is this is also the 1 year anniversary of Elizabeth Stratton's death.

Unlike Steve, I did know Lizzie.
I experienced firsthand the impact and influence she had on so many people during her short life, including my own life. I sat listening to Steve's family and friends speak of him realizing he, too, had great impact and influence on many lives.

Two very different people.
One female, one male
One young, one older.
One Catholic, one Jewish.
One single, young, woman, the other, married, family man.

Two different people, yet so similar in the feelings left behind shared by loved ones who are struggling with the loss.

I can't help but think of what I read...

Love is not changed by death and nothing is lost, and all in the end is harvest'

I wonder what Lizzie's parents would say about this quote a year later, or what Kathy would say about this so soon after losing her husband.

But never the less it is stuck in my mind as I wonder what I myself would share about this quote.

I think back to loved ones I have lost and am thankful it is a short list; Grandparents, George, aunt Betty, friends of my children... I have been blessed to have not experienced the loss of a child, spouse, or parent. At lease not yet.

But of this I am certain of...
The one thing we all have in common in this life and on this earth is death.

Attending the funeral of another, hearing the sentiments shared, makes me wonder how I would handle the death of a loved one in my immediate family. It also makes me wonder what others will say of me when I am gone.

Will there be anyone there to attend my funeral?
Will anyone say anything nice about how I lived my life?
More importantly will any of my children have a kind word for me?

I don't think of myself as a morbid person.
It isn't that I dwell on death, funerals, or the like.
But I see days like this as opportunites for me to reevaluate my priorities.
It gives me a chance to ask myself if I am living each day as if it were my last. It makes me think about what is most important. Am I making a difference in the world?
Or at least...
Am I making a difference in my small part of the world.

All I can say is, "I am trying."

And I hope in the end, there is a harvest of love and grace for those I leave behind