Two Songs at the Cemetery

Not having much voice left after sharing their gift at Midnight Mass, a kind quartet—who knew the 11:30 morning Mass would need music to feel like Christmas—showed up.

After Communion, Chris Tomlin's song, "Noel," sparkled through the arches of St. Mary's.

I closed my eyes and was carried away to perfect peace, as the delicate weaving of acapella notes tugged at my heart. Tears flowed, and when the last notes hung in the air, applause filled the church in thankfulness for the tender reminder of what Christmas is all about....

It's about love.

I offer these lyrics as my poem today.

After church, I was filled with Christmas, as my shoes crackled on the salty pavement. I thought of heading to the cemetery to visit my parents' grave, but the wind was biting at my cheeks and I reasoned that I could always go another day. Turning on the car and feeling the warming heat, I sighed...but something kept urging me to go.

As my car slowly maneuvered down the winding road, I felt a palpable connection to each person standing silently in honor of their loved one or bending over to add some Christmas flowers to the grave. I could almost hear the hushed conversations and words of love being carried on the breeze.

I was comforted in their presence.

When I got out of the car, I noticed a woman sitting alone on a cold granite bench. I turned to walk the other way, then quickly turned back and followed the footprints in the snow.

I took this image as I left the cemetery so I would always remember to pray for her.

"Merry Christmas," I said. "Hope you don't mind, but I couldn't help seeing you sitting here alone and thought I would stop and say hello."

She immediately rose to her feet and gave me the biggest hug. I told her I was sorry for her loss and shared that I was here to visit my mother, Nancy's grave as well.

"My name is Nancy, too" she said. "It's my son's birthday."

Hearing my mother's name, told me I was right where God needed me to be. The connection between Mary and the loss of her Son, Jesus, and this grieving mother was no coincidence.

What followed was a slow, tender conversation between strangers, telling me about her son, who had died at age 26. She proudly wore a tattered Bentley College sweatshirt and brought his favorite beer to toast with him. After a few minutes, I said "Merry Christmas" and told her how nice it was to meet her. With each crunchy footstep toward my mother's grave, I thanked God for urging me to the cemetery.

I spent a few minutes in the cold with my parents, playing Chris Tomlin's song "Noel" on my phone and just talking to them. My shadow, long from the noontime sun, wrapped across their grave in a hug. "

"You would have loved this song, Mom," I said. "Come and see what God has done," I sang. "We too, had a story of amazing love."

My beautiful mother, Nancy.

Heading back to my car, I saw Nancy's balloons bobbing in the wind and stood by my car, key-ready, for a few minutes... till I felt drawn to go back and see how she was doing.

She giggled when she saw I had come back. We talked some more, and I found out she did not live in town but had brought her son here to be buried near his beloved cousin, who had passed very young.

My heart broke for her.

We stood in quiet together for a few minutes, understanding our shared grief without a word, while the the wind swirled and the sun streamed in.

"I love the balloons you have for your son, I can feel how much you love him..."

Then words snuck out of my mouth I didn't expect...

"Have you sung Happy Birthday to your son yet?" I asked.

She smiled and said, "No."

"Would you like to sing with me?" I asked.

"Sure..." she said.

And for just a moment, the rest of the world melted away and a joyous 'Happy Birthday' sang through the air sent to the heavens to a son so greatly missed.

"I will keep you and your son in my prayers, Nancy," I said. I am so happy to have met you.

Thank you Chris Tomlin, for your poetic words, this Poetry Friday after Christmas. Your words reminded me of what God had done today, stirring my heart to say hello and thus healing both our hearts...

...just a little bit.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Don't hesitate the next time a passing thought

urges you to say hello to a stranger.

There are blessings waiting to be had.

Thank you to Tricia for hosting today at The Miss Rumphius Effect. Head on over to read her beautiful sonnet about finding peace this Christmas in the chaos, and to discover some other lovely poems from my friends.