Today

Saturday I heard that someone I went to college with died. I had heard through the alumni news that Vic had cancer. I had emailed he and his wife and posted to their Care Pages board a couple of times before he passed on. Sunday I got a call from another alumni. Vic's wife had asked her to call around and see if the people that had been in a music group with Vic could come and sing at his funeral. I was in that group.

I felt a bit weird about this: 1) I have not sung in front of people for years, 2) I have not seen Vic or his wife in years, 3) I have not seen people I would probably see at the funeral for years, and I don't consider college (the first time through) to be the most stable part of my life. No, I was not attending systematic theology classes in the day and smoking crack at night. I just had very distorted perceptions of myself (I didn't like me) and others (I thought a lot of people looked down on me).

But something was strongly telling me I should do this. It came down to this: when someone dies, a typical response is to say, "If there's anything I can do, please let me know." Well, she let us know. And I had it within my power to do something that would be meaningful to someone during a very difficult time.

When I told someone at work about this, he said, "It sounds like a movie." And it kind of was. I told Rob it reminded me of "The Big Chill" - only I didn't sleep with anyone. People who haven't seen each other in 19 years (some a bit less) get together and we talk about our lives, our jobs, our kids, our memories of Vic and each other, and we try to come to terms with what the death of a 37 year old father of five means to us. That and running into people we dated is always interesting.

Through it all I discovered some stuff:

First, I do pretty darn good at pulling off the alto part of "It is Well With My Soul" even with very little time to practice.

Second, we were probably all angst-filled college students who were way too self-absorbed and making mountains out of molehills. People are just people. If others had a pecking order in their mind, I think they've lost it with maturity. I know I have. I can get over it and feel comfortable with people I never felt comfortable with before.

Third, I allowed a relationship that was really important to me to fall down - and both of us seem to regret it and blame ourselves. Maybe some things can be resurrected. Hope so.

Fourth, there is something very, very good, about weeping with those who weep, because in addition to supporting the weeper, in the midst of death we remember what life is about. That is a hidden privilege.

Thank you, God.