Russellings of the Spirit

Left to right: my son Graham, Alan, Eric, me, Douglas. Not pictured: mother of the bride, Melinda. Sorry, sissy.

A couple of weeks ago, my siblings and I had one of our all-too-rare get-togethers.

Rare because hanging out regularly is hard when separated by 2,000 miles of American soil. As providence would have it, the occasion of my niece’s wedding (in the lovely Cascade Mountain town of Roslyn, Washington) offered us a great excuse to do some yakking and catching up.

I’m not sure if I have ever said this here before, but I LOVE my brothers and my sister. They are some of the sharpest, funniest, kindest, looniest human beings you will ever have the joy of meeting. I automatically become a better person simply by spending time in their presence.

ALL visits with them are too short… no matter how long they are.

But besides kibitzing and marrying off Melinda’s youngest daughter, we had another assignment to carry out. We decided this would be a great time to carry out an ash-scattering our dad had requested as part of his final instructions to us.

Not only had dad drawn up a detailed plan for his funeral service prior to his death in January 2017, (including scripture readings, music, and poetry to be read), he also made up a list of five places where his cremated ashes were to be scattered.

As we stood there on the flanks of Mt. Rainer and scattered 1/5 of dad’s earthly remains, we also read a poem… written by one of the pastors dad served with early on in his ministry.

Part of the time included sharing some reflections on all of the ways dad’s influence helped shape us into the people we are today. I hope to offer some of those thoughts in a later posting.

And even though this poem clearly endorses cremation vs. burial of the body, I don’t offer this as a condemnation of those who choose burial.

I simply wanted to share that poem here, both as a way of celebrating the unique and unrepeatable life of George C. Brown, Jr., but also as one way of thinking about what is left behind when the breath of life leaves these mortal bodies of ours.

CREMATION

For me, no sepulcher when I am stilled, no grave to hold

Disintegrating into dust that part of me which loving life

Met each morning, wonder-filled.

Instead, to the winds my elements fling! That they may, perchance,

With lilting song reach high hills at sunset,

And meadows wet with dew where I have longed to go.

No marble shaft, engraved with platitudes when I am gone.

Only some heart, once loved, to realize that my eager mind

And long-suppressed dreams have been lured to greater altitudes.

The winds will search across the universe, find blue waters,

Moon drenched plains, little coves…

A thousand havens I have longed to see.

Deep vales at daybreak where white mists rest… there I will be.

Yet part of me, ever and anon, will hesitate, rise high into the sunlight

Then ride a homing breeze to linger briefly

On a dear one’s breast.

So look not down, when henceforth you think of me,

You, whom I so much love!

But lift your heads, your eyes, your hearts,

And look up, over, above, and beyond… for there I will be!

And now may the sweet benediction of God’s love, peace, and grace

Rest upon this life that has closed in our midst… but has not closed.

In faith and high hope, we commit his body

To the elements from which it came…

And his spirit to the God who gave it.  AMEN!

– Rev. Dr. Floyd Faust