Pass the Tissues, Please

OK, so I spent most of this past weekend crying. It not a bad thing--they were good cries, for the best reasons. But when I was planning to attend various events this weekend, it somehow didn't occur to me that I should've invested in water-proof mascara. Of course looking back it's obvious--how did I not see it coming?

The weekend began with attending a very moving memorial service for a soldier who'd been killed in action. However, this was not an Iraq or an Afghanistan casualty but a Vietnam veteran. He was MIA for over 40 years. 40 years. His family was told that he had died and that he was MIA. So for over 40 years they grieved, but still held out hope; hope that somehow he had lived, or hope that his body would be found so they could know once and for all what had happened to their loved one. And thanks to the tireless efforts of one of this man's fellow soldiers, it finally happened. His remains were found in Vietnam, identified by a special lab in Hawaii, then finally sent home to his family. I didn't know him, but his family are long-time residents of my town and I have met some of them. My father is a Vietnam veteran, and my church was hosting the memorial service since our auditorium has a large capacity. So I attended this service with my parents and my grandparents (Grandpa Bossy is a WWII veteran).

It was amazing. The bagpipes played and in rolled the flag-draped casket and the tears started flowing. Then came 2 long lines of Vietnam veterans, wiping the tears from their eyes. It was such a powerful reminder of the price that is paid by our veterans and their families. All of my veterans came home from war: my grandfathers, my father, my brother, my uncle, and my cousin. It is no small thing to serve in the military, no small thing to see battle. I am so grateful that this family's brother, cousin, uncle is finally home. But I am so sad for their loss, for the years of uncertainty, for the visible and invisible scars carried by all of our veterans and their families.

So that was one package of tissues.

Then that evening, I attended the retirement dinner for the pastor of my hometown church. He is stepping down as head pastor and his son is taking the reigns. This is the church I grew up in, where I made life-long friends, where I learned how to teach, where I learned the Bible, learned what it meant to serve, what it meant to love people through thick & thin, good and bad. A place where I was loved and invested in and the place I left when I went away to college. Then my family moved (Papa Bossy got a job in my college town) so I never went back, but went on to continue to serve, learn, and grow in my church here. So it was another emotional night, a time to honor a Godly man and his wife for years of faithful, selfless service. It was so sweet to see old friends and meet new faces--to reminisce and see how God has moved and worked in this wonderful group of believers.

So that was 1/2 a package of tissues. There was also a lot of laughing, chatting, hugging, and eating to balance the emotional stuff.

Then the next day was the Commissioning service for the new head pastor of my hometown church. Again, it was a great service and very moving. We came to the end where Pastor Vic prayed over Pastor Matt (his son) while the Deacons laid their hands on Pastor Matt. And the tears flowed again, overwhelmed with gratitude for this church, it's ministry, and my dear friends. It was so great to be there with my hubby and my parents (and CB too, but he was tearing it up in the nursery).

There went the other 1/2 package of tissues.

And now we are home, starting a new week. I am tired but grateful for the events of this past weekend. Two days spent remembering sacrifice, service, and the grace of God.

Now to restock the tissue supply...