I woke up feeling okay, with almost a smile. I had not slept well, but I did wake up. 

I ate some breakfast: coffee, hard boiled egg and blueberry breakfast cake. I should not have eaten. The food was good, but laid between my throat and stomach. Felt like gravel stuck in my chest. 

We looked out through the kitchen window and saw across the road the hearse that carried her body. They would set up that morbid green tent to cover her tent, her body, in the casket. 

Tent, that hopeful metaphor the Apostle Paul used for the transformation of our earthly bodies into eternity:

For we know that if our earthly dwelling, a tent, should be destroyed, we have a building from God, a dwelling not made with hands, eternal in heaven. For in this tent we groan, longing to be further clothed with our heavenly habitation if indeed, when we have taken it off, we shall not be found naked. For while we are in this tent we groan and are weighed down, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now the one who has prepared us for this very thing is God...

We waited for the time of the service. We watched the news. What a stupid idea. The pain & injustice that we politize, divide, and hate over. It's not the way it's supposed to be. Everything the opposite of who Sonja is - bold, practical action to unite and love others. From every end of the spectrum and everything in between. Be human. Be kind. Share a kindness stone. The way it's supposed to be.

It was time.  We walked across the road, around the classic New England stonewall, and up the slope behind the cemetery. They did not set up the morbid green tent, for on that beautiful, sunny, and chilly day there was no need for tents.  We sat on the front row, under God’s beautiful tent, and stared at the casket that held dear Sonja’s worn out and discarded tent. 

As we sit, I am reminded of the wonder and vastness of God, who stretches out the heavens like a veil and spreads them out like a tent to dwell in, of the chaos created in our souls by a life taken way too soon, and of the Almighty Creator who hovered over the chaos that became the “good”  of creation. It's not the way it's supposed to be. We sit in front of an empty tent under God's great tent in our grief and distress.

The casket had bright colorful, glorious flowers on top.  Sonja's tent is ready to be laid next to Heidi’s mother, Mormor, Sonja Lindgren Healey. There is some comfort in knowing this, the two Sonjas resting together.  But the echoing words in my heart are, “It's not the way it's supposed to be.”

The pastor speaks the historic and eternal promises of God through His prophets and Son. Passages that have sustained us through these times: Isaiah, the Gospels, Saint Paul's letters, and John’s Revelation.  He leads us with the song, The Church's One Foundation Is Jesus Christ Her Lord.  Sonja consistently sought out a word for each year to guide her, and of course told everyone else they also needed to do this!  Her word for this year was “foundations”. 

We sing the poignant verse:

• Yet she on earth hath union
• With God the Three in One,
• And mystic sweet communion
• With those whose rest is won.

Throughout the known history of humanity there has always been this sense that we who are still in our tents are not alone and those who have gone before us are somehow still connected to us.  Sonja and I were usually early morning texters from silly posts to her reports, often with pictures, of her current medical situation. I still expect to see those texts, and often think of her as we as a family continue our family texts. 

The author of the hymn, Samuel Stone, wrote a different hymn for each of the articles of the Apostle’s Creed to encourage his congregation to hold fast to the truths of our faith. The Church’s One Foundation was written to embrace the teaching of the 9th article of the Apostle’s Creed, I believe in… the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints,

The letter to the Hebrews notes that in our journey with God, we have approached Mount Zion and the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and countless angels in festal gathering, and the assembly of the firstborn enrolled in heaven, and God the judge of all, and the spirits of the just made perfect, and Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant.  I have no logical explanation of how this takes place, but in some mystical way as we approach the heavenly throne of God through Jesus, we also approach angels and those whose rest is won. This mystic union exists between God and the followers of Jesus (John 17:20-23), and between all the saints throughout history.  She is gone, but still in mystic union with us and all the believers, seen and unseen.

The pastor then pronounced those final words: In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our sister, Sonja, and we commit her body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

We leave the way we came.  Nothing has changed. And yet in one way, committal service is the end. Sonja is not coming back.  Her earthly life, her earthly tent, is gone.

We walk across the road and into the house where there are family and friends, and lots of food. I escape for a while into the bedroom we are staying in, Mormor’s room. Everyone seems loud and laughing in the other room. It's how family time together is supposed to be. But that one who would be the most talkative and loud with the weird laugh is not heard. It's not the way it's supposed to be. 

Sonja is not with us. It's not the way it's supposed to be. A beautiful, loving life gone too soon. A child who is gone before her parents. It’s not the way it's supposed to be.  And thus in the midst of a beautiful, wounded world, we groan for the Day of Redemption with joyful hope.

Sonja and I were much alike and very different, as I’m sure many of us feel that way with most of our children. She was our wild, extrovert child wearing gold speckled combat boots in high school.  Where were her parents!  She loved bright colors for clothes and decorations.  Orange was her favorite color.  When we visited college campuses with her and a friend, on every single campus, she met someone she knew.  How could that be? 

She was bold in general. Around the age of 3, she told a teenager standing on top of a picnic table to get off the table. And he did.  She was bold in giving advice, wanted or not. She was bold in her love.  Reaching out to all, regardless of who it was, to help them make steps towards a more healthy and flourishing life.

Sonja was willing to try and go after anything.  In her mind, she could do anything she wanted. She came home one day from high school excited to tell us that she had joined the marching band!  In stunned disbelief, we said, “but you don’t play an instrument.” The only musical lessons Sonja ever had was with the piano, and we were pretty sure that was not part of the marching band. She replied, “something in the pit, the percussion section!”  

Me?  I’m much more comfortable behind the scenes.  I’m more slow to warm compared to Sonja’s gotcha style of interacting.  I like gray, blue, and brown colors.  Green is a stretch for me. 

In this profound loss of Sonja, is there someway that I can be more like her to make at least some sense of this loss?  As a family we all decided to wear a bright color, like orange, for the committal service.  I bought orange ties to wear.  I really don’t like the color orange, someone might notice me.  But an orange tie is a nice step towards Sonja.

In that passage where Paul talks about the hope of our tents,  he goes on to say that this hope should make us courageous:

So we are always courageous, although we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yet we are courageous, and we would rather leave the body and go home to the Lord. Therefore, we aspire to please him, whether we are at home or away. For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive recompense, according to what he did in the body, whether good or evil. Saint Paul's advice to the Corinthians. 

May we all be a little more bold in our love to all those around us.  Help us Lord Jesus to shine your light as Sonja shined her life for you.