More random thoughts from my journey after the death of my wife, Renee.

Every day, people wake up and get ready to go about their day, to attend to the business of the day, the business that pays their salaries and puts food on their tables and roofs over their heads.  Every day, people go to work.  And, for a certain percentage of those people, the business they attend to every day is the business of death. 

Isn’t that strange?  Is that a line of work that people grow up excitedly thinking about getting in to someday?  Maybe.  But I never heard any of my school mates saying, “When I grow up, I’m going to work in a funeral home!”  Or, “I’m going to be a mortician someday!”  [True story – the gentleman who tediously, to the point of exasperation, worked with my family making the arrangements for my Mother’s burial actually was one of Renee’s high school classmates, and she thought that was hilarious!]  And yet, there they are, filling a need, taking care of people in difficult times.  Which is nice. 

But what they are actually doing is taking care of business.  And, by the way, though they would never say it out loud, business is good.  In fact, it’s hard to imagine a better business.  They literally have a product that people are just “dying” to buy.  Sure, there aren’t any repeat customers.  But, sooner or later, everybody is going to walk, or roll, into their door.

The whole “business of death” experience was surreal for me.  From the moment that one of the first responders asked which Funeral Home I would prefer to use, it was as though he was talking to someone else.  It was the same with the team that came to pick her up.  It was the same with the Funeral Director assigned to me.  They were all kind and caring and professional - beyond reproach in every way.  I highly recommend them.  But it was so strange, and remains that way even now.  Picking out a casket, picking out flowers, picking out the words and the picture to go on the prayer cards, planning a funeral – for my wife?  Were they really talking to me?  How could they be talking to me?      

In my mind, and perhaps even out loud – spoken into the darkness of night – the words, “This is not what we planned!”, continue to echo.  None of it is. 

I wonder if God knows anything about plans falling apart?  Oh, I know He “knows” everything.  I know nothing has ever taken Him by surprise.  I know all that.  So I guess not.

But I also know that none of this – first responders, funeral homes, the “business of death” – was what He wanted, was what He desired, was what He hoped for, was what He planned. 

And I know that someday, somehow, some way - in ways that I do not and cannot understand, in ways that will far exceed every hope and dream I have – God is going to make it all – all of it, literally ALL OF IT – right.

I think I’m ready for that.  I hope you are too.   

Ambrose Ramsey | Pastor and Shepherd