was the hymn that I chose to send off the last of the "Welsh farmboys" yesterday. When I sat down with the family earlier this week to discuss the service, I asked if there was a favorite hymn I could incorporate into it. I somehow knew that the answer would be "Something Welsh." I assured the widow that I would return to my study and pick a Welsh hymn. Everyone in this close-knit community knows all the Welsh hymns. I only know the ones in the Presbyterian hymnal, and only in English. That did limit my choices.

Yesterday was a long day full of very new and very old moments. It was the first service of Witness to the Resurrection I have ever done where a body was present. It was the first time having the visitation in the church instead of the funeral home. It was my first time experiencing the Masonic rite. (Which is a big deal around here. I found out which members of my congregation are Masons yesterday.) It was the first time I did the whole ritual, from visitation to service to burial to luncheon all in one day. (I don't recommend it--absolutely exhausting for everyone involved.)

A moment I will never forget: when the widow arrived at the church, she walked past the open casket, not looking directly at it. She went to the back row of pews where she and her husband sat for 58 years. Once she got seperated from her walker and was situated in the pew, a grandaughter holding her by each arm, she finally saw him. When she did, she screamed and let out a string of vulgarities--swear words I wouldn't even have expected that she knew at 91. (Some of those words I thought my generation had invented.) It was the most touching, vulnerable, poignant moment of the day. The best part: nobody tried to hush her. She was speaking the truth.

Several hours later I stood outside accompanying the casket while it was lifted by six rather frail-looking Masonic brothers into the hay wagon that the farmer had used for church hayrides for over 40 years. His beloved Belgian horses, Sally and Sue, carried M. to his final resting place, a quarter of a mile away. Traffic pulled over to the side of the road on this rather busy highway, and I saw people get out of their cars and bow their heads as the horses clopped by.

It was almost too much for me to handle.

Lo! the hosts of evil round us,
Scorn thy Christ, assail thy ways!
From the fears that long have bound us
Free our hearts to faith and praise.

Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,
For the living of these days
For the living of these days.

Thanks be to God.