Skip to main content

The size of your plot

  Tonight during RCIA, we spoke a small part about death. And in that talk, the Catholic funeral came up (obviously) in which we place the white cloth (pall) over the casket. The true reason we do this is to symbolize the baptism and purity of the one who has died.
  One gentleman, on the older side of life, spoke up and said he and his wife visited the funeral home yesterday to prepare for their death. The funeral director told this man the reason they put the white cloth over the casket was to hide the price of the casket. It could be inlaid with gold or a simple pine box. No one would know.
  A symbol of humility in both instances.
  At the mention of that, Father mentioned that no matter how big your car the plot size is still the same. My mind began to reel about this simple yet lost idea.
  Why is it we try so hard to acquire? Why do we spend so much time trying to gather unto ourselves all things material that will only give us a temporary degree of wealth? And my mind didn't even go to the afterlife and what I believe it to be. Whether or not heaven or hell do or don't exist is the furthest thing from the true point. It is this: that when you die...your wealth means nothing. Your car means nothing. Your house means nothing. Your clothes mean nothing. These are simply things that buy us things, get us places, give us shelter, and keep us from being cold.
  I am not saying it is not important to have these things or that I am not grateful for what I have. I am! I am blessed! But, the price tag doesn't matter. As an adult, I don't encounter bullies because of what I wear as I did in school. But, sometimes I still find that I care about gathering the wealth. I care about name brands... and I get caught up. My brother's box, the one that held his ashes, was all that held him physically. His memories alone were the only thing we need to carry with us to remind us of him. It wasn't that he wore a shirt he got at Goodwill or at the high end department store. It was that it was his. Price didn't matter.
  I guess it just hit me that it is not worth anything to go after something because of price. Our boxes are still the same size. Our plots are still the same size. It is our memories that matter. I am going to try to spend more "time" on those than money on things. Hard but worth it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Beneath the Weeping Willow

  "The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind. This is the willow's purpose." —  Frank Herbert, Dune   Time, although a very evasive concept, is in each moment a gift. And most often, I don't stop to look back at the road I have traveled on. Even more so, the road Justin and I have travelled together. But today it is warranted. Today marks 9 years as husband and wife, and 9 years of truly some amazing and adverse moments. We have lost the most cherished and birthed the most loved all the while interwoven with each other.    I will be the first to admit that our day to day appears to some: mundane. However, inside the ordinary he and I together have understood the profundity of love. It is brash and loud, but it is also cautious and quiet.  "Love is a many splendored thing."  It is the true basis of community, and I am proud of the community we have built.   The  willow  is the t...

Being his girlfriend

"Are you happy being my girlfriend?" He asks. In all seriousness. In all honesty. He asks. Never once have I been asked such a damned difficult question. Never once have I been asked that slight simple question. Never once have I been asked THAT question.   Immediately, my head goes a thousand different directions. I want to give him the most honest answer. But lately I feel as though I am trying to quantity my happiness. Yes. I. Am. Happy. But what is happiness? Am I? Can I honestly say that I am happy? I don't know.   Before I make an ass out of myself, I must say this: not one time in the history of Aly and men has she ever felt like her significant other was shelter. You know that line from Finding Nemo where Dory says to Marlin, "When I look at you, I remember. When I look at you, I am home." That's the way I feel when I am in his arms. Home. Perhaps it best not to tell him such a bold thought, but it's true.   Back to this question. Am I happy b...

The Breath of Life

   "I c-c-c-can't stop shaking." "Oh, that is normal," he said as he looked down at me before he peered back over the blue medical sheet in front of my face. I couldn't. I just couldn't stop the incessant shaking. The moment of welcoming my son had played out in my head everyday for the last 10 months, and I promise, this was NOT it.   We arrived 30 hours prior, and my utopistic idea of induction had not come true.    "There are only a few reasons we would revert to a cesarean section... 1. He is under stress. 2. I am under stress. 3. He isn't progressing after some time, but chances are we won't get there."    So, after 22 hours of quite intense labor, I found myself being prepped for a c-section. I'll be the first to admit, my words of, "We will do what we have to do to have a healthy baby," seemed so far gone now. I wasn't sure emotionally how I had gotten this far, or even how I would get further.   "We are go...