It was my Aunty Marjorie’s funeral today, and although the service was short, it was beautiful. The vicar told a story about water beetles, which I thought was a lovely way to describe death. We already know that God has promised us eternal life, and this was a great way to interpret that.
“There was once a community of water beetles living in a little pond underneath the lily pads. Every once in a while, sadness would come to the group, when one of the water beetles would climb the stem of a lily pad and disappear above the water. The group knew that when this happened, their friend was not coming back.
When this had happened a few times, they made a promise that the next beetle that went up the stem would come back down and tell the others what was above the water.
The next time that a beetle started climbing up the stem, his friends reminded him of his promise to come back. When he reached the top of the stem and climbed out of the water and on to the top of the lily pad, the sun was so warm that he fell asleep.
As he slept, his body changed into a beautiful blue dragonfly.
When he woke up, he remembered his promise to his friends to go back down to them, but his new body would not let him below the water, no matter how much he wanted to go back. At this point he realised why none of his previous friends had come back to them, and that eventually, his friends below the water would make the journey up the stem to join him.”
This is read every year at the Lights of Love service at Wheatfields Hospice. It’s a really lovely poem, with such a beautiful meaning. My Grandad was cared for at Wheatfields and they do such fantastic work. It’s nice to go back each year to support them.
So many Christmas memories,
Now touched by gentle tears
Of Christmas shared with loved ones
Left as precious souvenirs.
The warmth of smiles and laughter,
That extra special wish.
Christmas time reminders
Of how much they’re missed.
If only it was Christmas
In the way it was before
If only we could have a chance
To share in just one more.
There’d be another memory left
Before we had to part.
Where a little Christmas magic
Helped to heal an aching heart.
I’ve just watched the Songs of Praise Remembrance special, and this poem was read. It’s a poem that is now synonymous with Remembrance day and captures the feelings perfectly.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
Extract from For the Fallen by Laurence Binyon
This put me in mind of af a poem which I read last year:
Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free
I’m following the path God laid for me.
I took His hand when I heard Him call;
I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day,
To laugh, to love, to work or play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way;
I found that place at the close of day.
If my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss;
Ah yes, these things, I too will miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life’s been full, I savoured much;
Good friends, good times, a loved one’s touch.
Perhaps my time seems all too brief;
Don’t lengthen it now with undue grief.
Lift up your heart and share with me,
God wanted me now, He set me free.