I sang for a funeral today. I sang the hymn, “There is a Balm in Gilead.” It’s never been one of my favorites, but I’m familiar with it. Today, as I sat shivering in the poorly insulated 150 year old church, it took on a bit of a new meaning. I listened to family members share about how it was one of their dearly loved sister/wife/mom’s favorite hymns and she sang it as a solo several times. I was also humbled to learn that the song had been sung by her bedside just days before.
Singing for funerals is not exactly enjoyable, but it’s something I am glad to do. I know that God has blessed me with a voice and I am glad to be able to bless people with it. I don’t mind singing at funerals for people I don’t know, because it’s easy to “distance” yourself and get through the service. However, today, I found myself getting a bit misty eyed at certain parts. Specifically, I was touched by the fact that the husband had devoted the last twelve years caring for his wife who had a stroke. His brother thanked him for devoting himself to his wife, and his daughter, through tears, shared how her father was an example of Christ. He showed selfless love by caring for his wife. Call me sappy, but I love seeing older couples like this. Still in love, holding hands, caring for each other.
I hope that one day Drew and I will be like that: old and wrinkly and still so in love. And I hope we can be an inspiration to those around us.