There’s
an old Southern tradition of “sitting with the family” when someone dies. (It
might not be strictly Southern, but it seems Southern-ish.) This means that when a member of my
congregation dies, it is my duty as pastor to visit the home of the deceased
and make myself available to talk, to listen, to counsel-advise, and otherwise
shepherd the family through the grieving process.
That’s
what I’ve been doing the last few days since Isabell Seawright, the oldest
member of Hall Memorial CME Church, passed away.
The people who gathered in the family house had lost their mother, grandmother, great-grandmother,
auntie, mother-in-law, best friend, neighbor, mentor, and matriarch. We were a house full of people in
mourning.
And
we spent most of the time LAUGHING.
Now
this wasn’t the forced, nervous laughter of people pretending that their hearts
aren’t broken. Nor was it the bitter
laughter of people diverting attention from their guilt by ridiculing others
and revealing their hurtful secrets.
The
laughter at Mother Seawright’s house was pure, peaceful, genuine, and virtually
continuous.
Mother
died, and we laughed.
It
was beautiful.
It
was the sound a pastor prays for (or should pray for), because it was the sound
of a family whose individual and collective memories of 92 ½ years were full of
joy.
The
laughter was the sound of peace--the kind of peace that people have when they
are absolutely certain that if there is a Heaven, Mama’s there; and if there
isn’t a Heaven, God will make one just for her.
The
laughter was the sound of a family diverse as any other, but united in their
love for this one woman. It was the
sound of 4 generations who each and all honored their matriarch and had received
her smiling blessing in turn.
The
laughter was the sound of the legacy of a loving life so well lived that not
even death could diminish her spiritual presence.
I
want to live that well. I want to raise up a family--- a tribe--- like Mother
Seawright did. And when I pass on, I
want to leave them with unreserved joy.
I want them to gather without drama even when I’m not there to preside
and mediate. I want to leave my family,
my church, and my community such a well-lived life that compliments, flowers,
and resolutions are insufficient. I want
to pass on the kind of peace and hopefulness that cannot be contained in silence
or corralled in words and so must manifest as only the greatest joys can---- in
laughter.
I’ve
always looked up to Mother Seawright, but I admire her more now than I ever
did.
She
gave me one more goal: to make my family
laugh when I die.
Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall
laugh. (Luke 6: 21)
---Anderson T. Graves II is a writer, community organizer and
consultant for education, ministry, and rural leadership development.
Rev. Anderson T.
Graves II is pastor of
Miles Chapel CME Church in
Fairfield, Alabama; executive director of the Substance Abuse
Youth Networking Organization
(SAYNO); and
director of rural leadership development for the National Institute for Human
Development (
NIHD).
Email atgravestwo2@aol.com
Support by check or
money order may be mailed to
Miles Chapel CME
Church
P O Box 132
Fairfield, Al 35064
