Funeral Regrets

   

   The sign language interpreter’s hand flowed gracefully from her palm into the air, heavenward. While the congregation recited, “...and the power and the glory,” my thoughts traveled from worship to regret. 

   Many years ago while observing a special needs classroom, I admired the use of American Sign Language, not just for those who are hearing impaired. Using specific hand gestures and finger spelling enabled another sense for learning and communication.  I still enjoy watching how signs add a dance-like beauty to songs and hymns, expanding meaning.

  When my niece was born hearing impaired 34 years ago, it was another reason to learn this expressive language. I took some classes, watched several videos and was able to use some basics as a special needs teacher’s aide.  But as my life's responsibilities enlarged with three children, a job change, and a busy husband, signing practice was neglected. 

   Because her family lived in another state, the opportunities to converse with Sharon, our niece, were few.  As in the case of other deaf adults I have met, she was patient and often appreciative with anyone’s feeble signing attempts.  Short comments about jobs, kids and the weather were all that were shared due to my lack of confidence. I was also afraid I might communicate something wrong and look foolish.

   Sharon’s unexpected death two months ago sent shock waves through her network of family and friends.  The funeral directors had their hands full encouraging the deaf community crowd and others to maintain the social distancing mandates for health.  The no-hugging and mask-wearing rules were preempted by the need to read lips, see facial expressions, and share love.

   As her loved ones regretted the things they didn’t say or do for Sharon, the pastor repeated God’s promises realized at her baptism, and confirmed in her Christian home. 

"He has swallowed up death forever! The Lord God will wipe away the tears from every face." Isaiah 25:8

   Why hadn't I made more of an effort to communicate God's love and mine? Why didn’t I let Sharon know my family prayed for her? Who else am I failing to reach out to, today? 

                         Are there regrets, as well as grief, at every funeral?

  *               *                 *

   Last week some friends and I were at a small town park.  A simple, they-didn’t-see-each other car accident happened a few feet away. We watched as the mistake escalated into fear, false accusations and verbal attacks.  Profanity was repeatedly shouted, even at police.

   I knew the truth—why didn’t I speak up and share it? The Christ in me prompted, “Go comfort each driver. Both ladies are scared and overwhelmed.”   Instead, I sat still and listened to the lies playing in my head. “You don’t know enough. Who do you think you are?  It’s someone else’s responsibility.”

     My friend sent an email soon after he left. "I should have said something and helped," he wrote, echoing my regrets. 

                          

  What will I do the next time God gives me an opportunity to communicate,

          to show concern,

                       to pray, 

                           and share truth?

 

 

“Decide whether it is right in the sight of God… we cannot stop speaking about what we have seen and heard.” Acts 4: 19-20