1 Corinthians 11:23–26 (NRSV)
The call came in late on the Saturday night before Palm Sunday. Darryl and Bernice’s daughter had been involved in a car wreck. I rushed to the hospital where I found these precious people broken. Their son-in-law was dead. Their granddaughter was dead. Their daughter was clinging to life, but she had lost the child she was carrying. The nurse brought their granddaughter’s body into the room, and Bernice cradled her tenderly. The hush that surrounded her—and us— was profound.
The funeral for granddaughter and father was held on the Wednesday in Holy Week. They lay at rest in a single casket. The daughter could not attend because of her injuries. It was somber yet strengthening—hearing the ancient words— remembering the ancient promises. Death did not have the last word that day. Hope did!
Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand. Without you I crumble—I cry. Strengthen my faith with memories for the journey ahead. In Jesus’ name. Amen.