It was such a sad day. Our beloved choir leader had died suddenly from a heart attack and now the church was packed with church members, family and friends for his funeral and to say our last goodbye.
Jeff had been our choir leader for twenty years and was loved by everyone. He always had a smile and a word of encouragement. He could never be replaced, but of course the church would hire a new choir leader but no one could ever replace Jeff.
Tears flowed like fountains, and I can't remember what the minister said, but he, too, stumbled over his words for the eulogy.
When we walked to the front of the church, where the casket held Jeff's remains, his best, lifelong friend, Harry, leaned over the casket and suddenly said, "He's wearing my suit! That's my new suit, I haven't even worn it yet! Jeff is wearing my brand new suit!"
Harry's voice got louder. "Jeff was supposed to pick up my new suit at the store and keep it until I could come over and get it in a day or two! I paid a fortune for that suit!"
Jeff's widow hurried to the casket.
"I don't know how this happened," she said. "I asked my son to pick out a suit for his father to be buried in and I didn't pay any attention to what he chose! I'm so sorry, Harry."
"But he's wearing my new suit!" Harry exclaimed, and by now, everyone had gathered around to find out what was causing the commotion. "I didn't get to wear it one time! That's my suit!"
I don't know who started to laugh, but someone laughed, and then others joined them. In a few minutes, the casket was surrounded by people who were laughing their heads off, and finally, Harry started to laugh.
Our tears of grief were replaced by tears of laughter. Jeff would have laughed about being buried in Harry's new suit.
We were all OK now. We would miss Jeff, and we would shed more tears in the days to come, but today we had learned, "There is a time to laugh and a time to mourn" (Ecclesiastes 3:1).
Jeff has been gone a year, the new choir director is doing a wonderful job and is well liked, but sometimes, someone will say, "He's wearing my suit!" and people will still laugh.
I don't think people laugh as much as they used to. Life has become serious business, people drive though terrible traffic to spend eight hours at a job they might hate and then face another long drive home. I see a lot of meals being delivered to my neighbors from fast food restaurants.
People don't cook much anymore, they have their food delivered. Dinner arrives in a box or a paper bag. We hire people to clean our house, walk our dog and to check on our old parents who aren't quite ready for a nursing home but who can't quite manage on their own and we don't want them to move in with us.
We don't know our neighbors; nobody "visits" anymore. We text or email people, but there is no personal, face to face contact. We have become isolated, and we are alone.
I'm old so I remember how things "used to be." Sunday morning was for church but Sunday afternoons were to visit our friends or families. In the summer, we'd sit on the front porch or in the yard and drink iced tea or lemonade and complain about the heat. In the winter, we'd wade through the snow and drink hot chocolate or coffee and complain about how cold it was.
We were all so "connected"-we cared about who was sick and whose dog had puppies and that cousin Rose had turned sixteen and was dating that nice Wilson boy. Small things, little things that tied us all together.
I watch people walking by in pairs or groups and they are all on their phones talking to someone else . . . they aren't talking to the person walking next to them. People have more ways to communicate than ever before, and I don't think people have ever been so alone and lonely.
Turn off your phone, talk to someone, listen to someone and laugh.
The Bible says, "He will fill your mouth with laughter . . . " (Job 8:21).
I hope something makes you laugh today.
Crying Wind is the author
of Crying Wind, My
Searching Heart, When
the Stars Danced,
Thunder in Our Hearts,
Lightning in Our Veins,
and Stars in the Desert.
This article is taken from
the Council Fire daily
devotional. You can order your copy by using the form on p. 18, or contact us at Indian Life Ministries (IndianLife.org).
