Our pastor is the type of man you can easily call Uncle Dave. Married with 2 children who are beginning the college years (yes, a Catholic priest-that's a story for another time). His calm demeanor and open heart made him an easy target for a grieving mom.
He was there for us as I yelled at him in the delivery room on how unjust God was. My rant went on to educate him on how CJ was being singled out by a God who obviously didn't know us, because how on earth would HE hurt us in such a way? So many angry, painful words. He stood there with his hand on my shoulder and let me beg. My angry words were actually a plea for mercy.
Understand that I have grown up in the Catholic church, attended Catholic elementary school, taught religious education for several years, been a sponsor through RCIA and a highschool youth group, and even worked for another church in the area. Church is home for me. Nowadays the church trend that is popular are "nondenominationals". Yet I find extreme comfort in the traditions, sacraments, and familiarity of our faith.
So when faced with CJ's death some decisions were very easy for us. He was to be burried in a Catholic cemetery with full rites. There was no discussion- he deserved nothing less.
This may answer a lot of questions for people who wondered why everything happened so quickly that week. I was initially asked while in labor what arrangement I wanted. I thought my parents/sister, and my immediate inlaws with our pastor would quietly bury our son. Who else would want to come to a funeral for a baby they never met? I didn't get it...
My parents gently brought to my attention a few hours later that family was asking about arrangements. We agreed to a full funeral with luncheon as soon as possible. No wake because I pictured being the only ones there with a tiny casket all evening. I didn't get it...
When the church filled up that day, and a long line of cars filled the tiny cemetery, and then 75 people showed up for the luncheon, I started to get it.
CJ is so loved by so many. His life matters. He brought joy by just being our hope for the future. He brought out the best in us. And by us, I'm including everyone who waited in joyful anticipation for his arrival.
It's hard not to notice how anticipation and hope tend to stroll hand in hand. Once again, my peanut is reminding me that hope didn't end with his death. His physical death on earth was just a stepping stone to his glory in heaven. Hopeful anticipation... I like the sound of that. I will live in hopeful anticipation of an eternity with my son. #doitforcj
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