Goodbye

10 years ago I flew my parents from the Gulf Coast of Alabama to live near our family in Illinois. That was a long and emotional two hour flight. Last week I took my last trip with my parents. That flight was even harder. A small plot of grass and a shiny slab of marble awaited our arrival in rural Alabama. My dad passed away January 27, 2019. Mom followed November 16, 2020. On the flight to Birmingham I carried their ashes in beautiful wooden boxes to nestle into the red clay of Rehobeth Baptist Church in Lawley. This is the church my dad remembered as the hub of their tiny country crossroads of a town. This is the ground where summer tent revivals reverberated well into the night for a week. This is the community that flowed in and out of church doors with hot dishes of fried chicken, green beans, cornbread, okra, and squash casseroles to spread on tables of plywood and  saw horses. This is the cemetery where his mother and father, aunts and uncles, a couple of his 12 siblings, and numerous ancestors rest. This is the ground where I buried them last week. It was, if there even is such a thing, where I said the final earthly good-bye. A snipping of the string. I am the one left of the three of us and I still feel a little off balance. But it also feels right and good and honoring to tuck them into this place layered with family history.

As I prepared for my trip I began to feel like I might like someone with me to mark this moment of final goodbye. But I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t feel like I should ask anyone. So I waited. (I have discovered, that often just the waiting, the sitting with a longing itself, is a prayer.) A couple of days before I left, my cousin Sandra texted me this:  wondering if I could come join you in Lawley … I’d like to be with you. (Thank you, Sandra.) Sometimes you don’t need to say the words for your prayer to be heard—and answered.

This trip had all the makings of a sad one. But it wasn’t. I attribute that to the mercy and goodness of God. He ordained the timing, orchestrated the circumstances, and provided the people. He paved the way. It meant a great deal to me to lay my parents to rest in Rehobeth cemetery, but it took a while to connect with someone at the church during the covid pandemic. When I finally did, he just happened to be the husband of my first cousin once removed (that’s my cousin’s daughter, in case you were wondering). And, he just happened to be the person in charge of the cemetery. And, he just happened to have a kind heart and a gentle spirit. His mother-in-law (my cousin, Edith) had passed on right after my mom so he saved me a nice little plot of land right next to her. (Which just happened to be right down the row from my dad’s parents.) He told me who to contact for the headstone and supervised its arrival. He even met me at the cemetery and dug the grave himself. 

Please tell me, dear reader, where in the world does this still happen? I can tell you where. In the heart of rural Alabama in the lives of those who are generous and kind and follow God because they love him. And in my life. I am just a simple woman who needed some help and trusted God to provide it. 

Thank you, sweet God. Bless you, James Smitherman. Rest in peace, mom and dad.

He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” Revelation 21:4
God places the lonely in families … Psalm 68:6a