Found on the Prairie

I remember reading of her passing in the Sunday newspaper, my friend, the first grade teacher who tempered love and respect with traditional learning. She took care of her students, none did without, and learning was fun. The thought of this loss made me feel that the world was being cheated. As I walked through the visitation line I see a fragile young man at the front of the chapel embracing a casket. I remember him growing up, his dad, his mom and baseball. I remember his dad losing a battle with cancer leaving him at an early age and now the sudden loss of mom. The thought of this loss allowed anger to slip in. Flanking the young man were two twin toddlers clinging to the casket. The thought, “It’s not fair!” echo loudly through my heart and tears stain my face. My faith is compromised I’m usually pretty good at funerals; I let my spirituality shield me from a breech of faith, but today is different; I let doubt creep in.

As I walk to the car reality slowly returns. My next stop is a local prairie and an outing with my naturalist’s friends. Our mission is to enjoy the sights and sound of one of nature’s wonders, the prairie. The cloudy, foggy early evening weather matches my mood, but as I walk among the native grasses and wildflowers, I feel my spirit being lifted. I experience the singing of the birds and the variety of early evening sounds and my spiritual reserve returns. I enjoy an affirmation of faith. I feel God’s presence, I know God. While the teacher’s passing is a sudden tragic earthly happening, she is now a part of eternity, the same eternity that embodies the seas, the mountains, and yes, the prairies. In these moments in time, I feel the warmth of the sun and experience a subtle yet defining sunset. I experience the Peace that only God allows. My friend and I are reconnected, not at a mortal venue, but on a spiritual landscape, evident of life eternal.

When I arrive at the funeral the next day, I am not surprised to see the service leaflets adorned with wildflowers emerging from the fog. This is a quiet confirmation of our evening visit. Funerals are a kind of formality. They provide an avenue for family and friends to channel their grief, and they provide a time of adjustment or transition. Maybe an evening walk on the prairie would better serve the purpose but the video that chronicles a life spent on earth provide assurance that this teacher, my friend, had earned her place in the stars. She is not lost. She can be found anywhere, even on a walk on the prairie.