Book Segment #13 - "Smoke and Ashes"

December 14, 2005

(This is the morning that per Jim's coaching Valerie and I were asked to conduct a "funeral" acknowledging the "death" of our relationship and marriage as it has been to this point. We met at a nearby church, sat in silence and reflected about the pain and suffering from this lingering death, as if mourning a close friend's long battle with cancer, yet rejoicing the end of the suffering. After this, we were asked to bring one photograph each of the two of us, then burn them in each other's presence.)

The morning after the funeral. I am looking for us in the ashes that remain.

[an email sent to Valerie] Good morning, Valerie. When I was getting ready to leave my apartment early this morning I noticed the ceramic tile you gave me many years ago. It reads:

MAGIC IS IN BELIEVING
BELIEVING IS IN THE HEART
THE HEART HOLDS THE KEY
THE KEY OPENS THE DOOR

Standing in the cold grey, watching in silence as our memories burned at the bottom of a ceramic vase, tracing the last crimson embers racing across the edges of the photos...and then the silence. The ashes. The soft moaning wind of the morning. The chill in the air. The seeming finality of it all. And then, our lingering embrace. And then we left going our separate ways.

We die so that we may live again.

I pray for your heart, your peace...and the chance for a door slightly ajar.

Blessings
Brian

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December 14, 2005

A Brother’s Prayer - Leaving the funeral

[an email from a close friend, sharing my walk]

Brian,

I wanted to separate the business of my ministry from the events of your day, thus this note.

The day that we talked about last week arrived earlier than I thought. Sounds like it was earlier than you thought as well. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. After a funeral of someone I love, there’s this hollow feeling, this empty space. I think it is a soulful response to the void left by the one who dies. It will never be fully replaced, even though many things arrive to fill the space.

I wonder what the void is like for you tonight. Something has been pronounced dead. Finished. Over. Without Christ, there would be little to do other than look at porn or something. With Christ, there’s that strange expectation that death is never the end. Seeds fall to the ground, dead, only to sprout forth. Winter’s cold can be endured because Spring will surely come. An awful Friday and Saturday precedes the Sunday of the empty tomb. And two lovers broken apart by God knows what, stand in the funeral smoke of photographs, struggling to believe that out of the ashes something new can and will arise. Miracles are the stuff of this faith of ours.

Know that tonight, I believe in miracles, and I pray that one will happen to you and Valerie.

With prayers,
Your friend.