Mark 9:30 - 37
The Rev. Peter Faass

“[Jesus] asked them, ‘What were you arguing about on the way?’ But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, ‘Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.’ Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.’”
 
Thank goodness no one ever argues about who is the greatest among us anymore - not!
 
We live in an unparalleled era of greatness attainment; of ruthless manipulation, abusing others to gain what we want: money, status, power, sexual gratification, you name it. Usually it’s some combination of them all. I don’t know about you; I feel as if I need a shower with hot, steamy water and lots of soap after reading the latest news. The behavior of so many people is grimy, especially from those who would deem themselves greater than us. Swamps are not being drained - and pigsties are being built.
 
For too many, being "the greatest” means being able to satiate every whim when you desire it. It’s the culture of instant gratification. Being great means being powerful, having authority over others, and exercising power through your position, wealth and sexual dominance. This results in mental, emotional and physical violence for those you believe you’re greater than. This cultural understanding of greatness is almost entirely imbued in a male-dominated world . . . like in Jesus' time.

The #MeToo movement certainly has exposed us to the underbelly of our male-dominated culture and the gross mistreatment of women. The continuing revelations of ongoing and unpunished clerical abuse of children in the Roman Catholic Church reminds us that those in positions of moral authority can be subject to abject moral failings.
 
The sports world is culpable as well, and the indecent behaviors are not limited to women (although there’s no shortage of that). Penn State and Ohio State had cultures where people turned a blind eye to young boys and male athletes being raped or sexually molested for years. Do I need to even talk about our elected officials in government who believe their "greatness" entitles them to abuse, manipulate and harm others to feed their greatness?
 
Our culture is filled with men who have been steeped in a culture of male superiority and dominance from birth. This ethos of “take and do what you want, whenever you want it” is nurtured as an entitlement of gender. This ethos gets distilled in the frequently offered and morally bereft phrase, “Well, after all, boys will be boys (wink, wink)."
 
A late night television host recently quipped, “If you believe that all this sexual violence we are being made aware of is legitimatized by the belief that boys are just being boys, you should not be able to raise boys . . . or girls. Maybe you can raise a potted plant.”
 
So much of what we encounter in this desire to be the greatest and the most powerful, regardless of the behavior or resulting cost to others dignity, self-worth and well-being, revolves around children: specifically, how we treat and teach them.
 
Let’s examine Jesus’ encounter with his argumentative and power-hungry disciples in today’s Gospel, where he cities children as the counterpoint to their inappropriate desires for greatness.
 
The child of antiquity was a nonperson. If children were useful, it was only to the degree they could perform work. This culture dictated that children should be working, or if they were too young, with their mother (another nonperson.)
 
In pagan Greek culture, it wasn’t unusual for children to be used for sexual gratification, especially in a mentoring relationship between a man and boy. So, what Jesus does and says with this child he takes in his lap is shocking! He has elevated this nonperson to the status of a role model follower of him.
 
“Whoever wants to be great must be like this child,” he proclaims. “Whoever wants to be first must be last in the accepted hierarchy and a servant to others. Just like this child.”
 
Jesus again reverses the world order of the dominant culture. The whole reason for his ministry (in fact his whole life) is to deliver the countercultural message of God’s reign, the path to our salvation. Following Jesus requires a total reversal of status, and it insists we adjust our values to align with that reign.
 
The most critical way to nurture the values of God’s reign begins with how we raise our children. At Christ Church, we nurture our children in Jesus’ ways as a core value of our faith community. Our Catechesis of the Good Shepherd program is the cornerstone of this endeavor.
 
From a very young age, children in this program are taught the intrinsic value of every human being and to respect the dignity of each person as a beloved child of God. It’s paramount we teach them the value and dignity of every person – as Jesus taught us. We treat children with the dignity they have and deserve.
 
The goal is that these values become fully woven into the fabric of their lives, especially when they are reinforced in their family life, school, and elsewhere. When that occurs, these values become obvious to their conscience, souls, and hearts. It becomes part of who they are as they become adults.
 
A person who has these core values hanging as a moral plumb line in their life doesn’t rape someone, or abuse them for self-gratification. They don’t climb over people like so much chattel to ruthlessly achieve through any means possible, power and wealth. They don’t treat others like disposable possessions or property. They don’t lie to save their own skin when they are wrong.  They don’t rip children away from their parent and incarcerate them in cages because they believe immigrants and brown-skinned people are sub-human. They don’t justify shooting first and asking questions later because of a person’s skin color. They can’t become white supremacists. They don’t because they can’t.  They understand what real greatness is.
 
The way we treat and raise our children matters because it is a measure of our discipleship to Jesus and the Gospel. If we view children as Jesus does and raise them with his values of dignity and love, it changes the world. It’s why Jesus wants those who accept erroneous values of greatness to become like children. Becoming like a child means loving without prejudice or fear. Doing so transforms us into Jesus’ likeness.
 
The radical grace of God that Jesus proclaims and lives completely obliterates the world’s notions of greatness based on status, wealth, power, and sexual dominance. Perhaps that is one reason why so many resist grace so much. It is often much more appealing to be great on the world’s terms than on Jesus’ terms. That’s evil at work when we succumb to that belief. Greatness on Jesus’ terms means being humble, lowly, and vulnerable as a child. Greatness on Jesus’ terms is risky; it means living counter to the prevailing culture. As Jesus repeatedly teaches, his way to greatness is the only path of true life. That makes it all worth it . . . for our children - and ourselves.
 
Amen.

The Rev. Peter Faass

I don’t believe there is anywhere in this 33,000 square foot building that Charlie Buss' hands did not touch over his six decades of being an active member of this parish.   Like King Midas, his touch made everything more valuable. Unlike King Midas, this was not a curse but a blessing. Where would we be without his golden touch, without his ability to do so many things? Where would we be without his gifts and generosity?
 
Charlie was a skilled craftsman, especially in woodworking and carpentry. It was one of many traits he shared with Jesus.

His hands meticulously built the various stations in our Catechesis of the Good Shepherd children’s Christian formation atria. He was the only person in the parish who could install the brass marker plates on the columbarium niches without marring the frontal piece. Of course, he owned this teeny, tiny screw driver that was required to do so. It was but one of his many tools of the trade that allowed him to do such wonderful things.  He built the elegant ambry where the reserved Sacrament and Holy Oils are kept in our chapel. For years, he created a unique and enchanting annual Christmas gift out of wood that he then made multiples of and shared with family and friends. Maybe the most well-know of those Christmas gifts is the nativity set that he created as a sort of Busses Rubik puzzle. I love putting that Nativity set out during the Christmas holidays every year. Putting it back after the holidays into the form, which is the outline of the manger; well not so much! It can be very frustrating trying to figure out how those pieces representing the Holy Family and the animals fit back in. I have often suspected this was a bit of a wry joke Charlie played on all of us. Aha, let’s see if they can put it back together again!
 
He also did mundane carpentry. Charlie fixed off-kilter doors, put shelving up, installed the processional cross holder, worked on the sanctuary parquet floor, and repaired loose kneelers on chapel chairs. He did a lot with great competence and better yet, with joy. Those gifted hands touched so many places and things in this church. He made them holy for us. Charlie holiness surrounds and embraces us.
 
Charlie was an inaugural member of the Wednesday morning Bible Study I started twelve years ago; initially we met at Panera at the Van Aken Plaza. When Panera moved to University Heights, we relocated to J. Pistone down the street. He was a faithful attendee. Like the mailmen of old, “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night" kept Charlie from attending Bible Study. Only having an obligation to do some ad hoc legal work prevented him from attending; and even then, he would still come for a portion of the class, dressed in a suit and tie.  Invariably, he was the first there. I beat him once, which shocked both of us!  When he arrived, he would set the tables and chair, getting us ready for our group. He ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS read the NRSV version of the Gospel lesson we studied.  That was his translation, and his claimed role.
 
Charlie really loved to read. He was also a lector. There was something very comforting listening to him. His strong, steady and gentle voice gave a reassuring measure to God’s word.
 
After reading the scripture on Wednesday mornings, he was often quiet during the group discussion. He certainly was attentive to the discussion, and occasionally he would offer some insight or idea. But mostly, he was quiet. He was in many ways an introvert, and someone who processed what he heard.
 
I sometimes thought Chalie’s quietness was the result of some of the provocative things I would say to stimulate thought and dialogue. He may have thought I was a heretic at times, but if he did, he never said so. He was too much of a gentlemen - and a gentle man - for that.
 
Of course, music was Charlie’s passion.  He was a faithful choir member since he was a young boy. He loved the choir and the music of the Christian Church. It is said that he who sings, prays twice. Well, if that’s true, Charlie got a lot of prayer time under his belt. Whether it was Sunday morning worship, the high holy days, Evensong, Advent Lessons and Carols, Caroling at Shaker Gardens or the annual Choir Christmas party, Charlie was there singing his heart out to the glory of God.
 
Charlie was an avid supporter of our Concerts at the Crossroads series.  He and Kerrin always attended our concerts.
 
He was always the first to arrive for choir warm-up on Sunday mornings. He would dress in his red cassock and cotta and then come and sit in the Good Shepherd room, talking to folks. In retrospect, I think that his early appearances on Sundays were really about him and his partner in crime, Nat Cooke, nabbing cookies from the coffee hour table, before it was actually coffee hour!  Who was going to tell these two pillars of the church, that they couldn’t do that?!
 
Charlie was a long-time participant in the Boar’s Head Festival at Trinity Cathedral every Christmastide. He loved the pageantry, the drama, the festiveness and the costumes!  He and Kerrin told me that Boar’s Head made their Christmas celebration complete every year.  The event – like all else Charlie was involved in - will be much diminished without his talents and enthusiasm.
 
Charlie served on Vestry as parish treasurer, and was a valuable member of one of our two teller teams. These teams count and record all the Sunday and other service collections, plus any other income the church receives into our office. He was the main man for making the weekly deposits. This is not the most exciting or sexy work in the church, but like everything he took on, he did so faithfully. You could always count on Charlie. He took his volunteer roles as seriously as if they were a paid position.
 
More than anything else, I will remember Charlie as Mr. Pancake. You know what I mean, right? For years, he was the heart, soul and face of our annual Shrove Tuesday Pancake Supper. At some point, he got the handle Mr. Pancake. Who will forget those suppers with the aroma of freshly fried pancakes wafting through the church like incense?  He always organized a team of great volunteers. Our kitchen would be abuzz Shrove Tuesday afternoon with chopping, mixing, frying, setting tables and, oh yes, the sacred task of carefully pouring out the authentic – no ersatz – maple syrup into creamers. It was quite a feast and a labor of love by all involved under the careful tutelage of Charlie. I am really going to miss Mr. Pancake.
 
I never heard Charlie complain. That’s an astounding thing to say about a lay person in the world of the church. I assure you, there is no dearth of complaining in this line of work. For six decades, he saw a lot happen in the life of this parish, which would lead to complaining and some egregious behavior from clergy and laity alike. He weathered those behaviors stoically, sure in his faith that God would get this parish to a better place.
 
Charlie also weathered the controversies that our beloved and recently deceased Byrdie Lee spoke about in her writings; intentional racial integration of this parish, Prayer Book revision, women’s ordination, acceptance of LGBTQ folks, the conflict between proponents of various liturgical styles.  I don’t know what his stance was on those issues during those tumultuous times (I can make an accurate educated guess), but Charlie never wavered in his commitment to Christ Church and this faith community. That was first and foremost for him. He could have fled to other churches like so many others did. But he didn’t.  He put Christ and Christ Church before his own personal needs or biases. That gets him a whole lot of jewels in his crown in heaven.
 
Charlie really strived to be a friend to all and to accept each and every person for who there where, and where they were on their journey.  If that’s not following the commandment to love your neighbor as yourself, I don’t know what is. It made him a pastor and an evangelist for the faith.
 
In our letter to the Romans passage today, St. Paul writes, “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us . . .  I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
 
Charlie Buss intimately knew that love of God in Christ Jesus. It was incarnated for him in this parish, in his ministries and in all the people of God he encountered over his years here. That love was worth the world to him, which is why he stayed through thick and thin. Like St. Paul, he knew there was absolutely nothing that would, or could separate him from that love of God he knew here. Such was his faith.
 
A couple of weeks ago, I visited him at the Hospice of the Western Reserve. It was a Sunday and a Gospel Choir was scheduled to sing in the common room that afternoon. Kerrin and Teri­ Lynn were there and they left the room to listen to the choir.  I found myself alone with Charlie for the first time since he had decided to no longer receive treatment for his cancer.  
Charlie was so beloved that his room often resembled a church convention with the number of people visiting. He also had some pretty fun Happy Hours in that room!
 
He knew he was near the end of his life. I took his hand and asked him if there was anything he wanted to talk about, or any issues he was concerned about and wanted to discuss. He looked me straight in the eyes, squeezed my hand and said, no. Everything was just fine. So, I asked if we could pray together, which we did.  I truly believe that as the end of this earthly journey approached that Charlie was at peace with his life and with all his relationships. That is a wonderful and all too rare state of grace for many on the last leg of life’s journey. I’m glad he had it.
“Jesus said, "Very truly, I tell you, anyone who hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life, and does not come under judgment, but has passed from death to life.”
 
We mourn the loss of our brother Charlie. He was a faithful companion to us in many lovely ways during our earthly journeys. His departing from us hurts. He will be missed in ways we have not even imagined yet. But we are comforted by the rich and deep experiences of love we had with him. We are comforted knowing that Charlie was a man who heard Jesus’ words and believed them. He also lived them, which of course is the whole point of the Gospel: To live the words of Jesus and build up God’s reign in our lives. Charlie did that. He was a good and faithful servant. Because of that, Charlie does not come under judgement, having lived a life worthy of the name Christian. He has passed from death into life, into that place where there is no longer any pain or sorrow, but only joy and life eternal.  That is the promise we have been given in Jesus. That is the promise realized for Charlie. Which causes us to rejoice!
 
If heaven has any deferred maintenance, Charlie is probably fixing it right now; his trusty tools in hand. I’m sure that the heavenly hosts are pleased to have his voice added to their number. And I suspect there’s a six pack of Black and Tan at the heavenly banquet table just for Charlie.  But look out, God, if Charlie gives you one of those wooden nativity sets. I hope you have better luck at putting that puzzle back together than the rest of us.

Amen.  

The Rev. Peter Faass

Social justice activist, anti-racism advocate, recorder of Black history, matriarch of this parish, poet, playwright, historian, public speaker, lector, Eucharistic minister, faithful follower of Jesus, dancer, event coordinator, friend, moral plumb line, confident, companion, self-described, “feisty old lady,”(a feisty old lady, who I will observe, could be as stubborn as a mule!), incubator of ideas, (or as she called herself, “a gooser.”) And maybe her most important role of all . . . biker babe!
 
What a rich and full life Byrdie Catherine Lee led. As she herself wrote in an essay titled, And Then There Was Time’ I’ve had a wonderful life . . . I’ve done almost everything I wanted to do . . . I’ve met almost everyone I wanted to meet.” That was in 2004. Looking back at the fourteen years that followed, I believe Byrdie would declare, “I have done everything I wanted to do.” Such was the fullness and richness of her well-lived live.
 
One of my favorite Anglican writers, C. S. Lewis, once wrote, “Die before you die, there is no chance after.” What Lewis was saying is that we should all die to those things that rob us of living fully the precious gift of life God has given each of us: Those burdens, distractions, addictions, hatreds, bigotries, believes and behaviors that are life-killing. Those things which prevent us from loving God, loving neighbor, and loving one another as Jesus has loved us. Die to those things so that you may fully live as God intends you to live. If you don’t, Lewis indicated, you lose the opportunity in death, and then it’s too late. 

In word and deed, Byrdie died before she died. Trust me, there was no way she was going to lose her opportunity to live, and live fully. 

When I think of Byrdie and her dying to those life-robbing things, Matthew’s parable of the Judgement of the Nations comes to mind. It’s the parable where the Son of Man comes in all his glory and the nations of the earth come before him and are separated into the goats and sheep; the sheep at his right hand and the goats at his left. The Son of Man addresses the sheep and says to those at his right hand, “‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’” (Matthew 25:34-40) 

And then the Son addresses the goats at his left hand and he tells them that when they encountered those most in need in the world they ignored them and did not help. But they reply, well Lord we never saw you. We just saw the homeless, the hungry, the thirsty, etc. So, we didn’t think to help them because, well, it wasn’t you. Then the Son says, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’’ And they are accursed because of their indifference and callousness towards the needy and vulnerable. 

Byrdie Lee was a sheep through and through. She lived her life at Jesus’s right hand. Such was her faith that she saw Jesus in all people, respecting the dignity of every human being, regardless of who they were. And she strived to help the least among us in every aspect of her life, because that is what her Savior commanded her to do. In fact, her life was a litany of caring for, and shepherding, the least among us. In that same essay And Then There Was Time she wrote, “Everyone touches someone’s life sometimes, and I have deliberately attempted to touch lives. I was a social worker, helping people when they were most vulnerable. A casual remark of mine stopped someone from committing suicide. I have conducted Sunday services in nursing homes and hospitals, and taken Communion to people in their homes. I started an Alcoholics Anonymous group in Vietnam, and adopted a twelve-year-old Yorkshire Terrier just before she was to be put down. I am currently Chaplain of my sorority chapter . . . I am a historian with [an] emphasis on Black history . . .for the past fourteen years, I have worked with high school students . . . [and] encouraged them to dream big dreams, then I work with them to make their dreams come true.”

Whether two legged or four-legged, (and sometimes the four-legged more so) Byrdie’s life was committed to helping and loving those most in need.

She was a sheep through and through.
Earlier this year I visited Byrdie when she was in hospice care at Montefiore. She was feeling pretty good and in her normal storytelling mood. She said she was happy to see me as she wanted to confide in me a story she had not shared with anyone before. It concerned her time in Vietnam as a USO coordinator. Her work during the war was to open and run clubs for the servicemen stationed in Vietnam. She loved serving that way, I suspect in no small part because of her desire to care for the vulnerable. These USO clubs and the temporary relief and distractions from the ugliness of war they offered was invaluable to those in the military, who often struggled with loneliness and homesickness.

Byrdie told me she came to know a number of servicemen who were gay, but of course, considering the time, deeply closeted. She said that while the USO club was a place for them to relax and decompress from the stress of war, just like it was for the straight soldiers, because they were gay they were never totally relaxed or truly felt safe in the club, having to be on perpetual guard hiding their sexual orientation. One day Byrdie decided to address this situation and invited a few of these men to her home for a party. It was a big success because in the safety of her home these men could let down their guard and be who they were. Eventually these parties grew, and she said, whenever they gathered there was singing and dancing and laughter and just total joy. She told me these parties were some of the best memories of her life. 

Now picture this scenario. It’s such a wonderful image of what her life was: Byrdie, an African-American woman, who because of her race and gender knew what it was like to be vulnerable and marginalized and all these gay men – fearful of being outed and dishonorably discharged from the military, essentially condemning them for the rest of their lives – here they all are at her house carrying on and just having the time of their lives dancing and singing. The warmth and the joy are palpable. It perfectly captures who she was. It is a beautiful image of the kingdom life that Jesus calls us to. It’s an image that is seared into my memory.

In the Gospel today, Jesus tells us that in his father’s house there are many rooms and he goes to prepare a place for each of us. Well, in the house of Byrdie’s heart, there were also many rooms, and she was tireless in preparing a place for all of us as well. In that house of her heart, we all found a place of hospitality and warmth, laughter and safety, and most of all joy, just like those servicemen. In every way Byrdie was a sheep at Jesus’s right hand. Because of that, she has gained the eternal life promised her.

No one spoke truth to power better than Byrdie. She did so when she worked for the Army in Vietnam. She did so as Director of Housing and Community Development in East Cleveland. She did so in this Diocese. She did so in UBE. She did so in her personal relationships. She did so in the public square of the communities she lived in. She did so in this parish. I will attest to you from personal experience, that when Byrdie Lee came to your office, to as she put it, “fuss with you” you better sit down, be quiet and listen, or else! Not to be too crude, but Byrdie was calling out BS before it was popular to do so. Her ability and willingness to speak truth to power, especially when power had gone astray and become abusive or too full of itself, was without parallel. I believe this is one of her enduring qualities and why Jesus loves her so much. As do we.

In an article she wrote in 2005 titled Christ Church in Living Color, Byrdie recalls her years at this parish. She began worshipping here on the second Sunday of May in 1967. Her article details the various ministries, rectors and clergy who served this parish from 1967 until 2005. She also recalls the various controversies and turmoil that embroiled this parish in those years, especially over social justice issues, beginning with the decision to intentionally integrate the parish in the 1960’s. Byrdie of course, was a vocal proponent of all things that promoted justice for all God’s children. She concludes her essay by saying, “in [Christ Church], as a microcosm of the whole church, we have fought racism, sexism, prayer book revisions, hymn book inclusion, [celebrating the] Eucharist every Sunday, and now homophobia. We have fought liberals and conservatives, charismatics and traditionalists, and questioned what God calls us to do. When I remember what I have put up with in the name of Christ Church, I do not remember “stability” but rather turmoil. I wouldn’t change anything . . . it’s been lonely, sometimes, God, but it has been a great ride.” 

Because of her ability to speak God’s truth to power and fight the good fight, Christ Church is indebted to Byrdie for who we are today as a diverse and progressive congregation. It was her passion and witness for building up God’s reign in this congregation over the past 51 year that nourishes and strengthens us to continue to proclaim the life-giving message of the Gospel in this community and beyond. Because of her witness, we do so despite the turmoil and loneliness it may cause at times. Because of Byrdie, we know it’s worth those costs, because the rewards we will reap are far richer. Like her, we wouldn’t change a thing. Because of Byrdie this parish has been, and continues to be, on a “great ride.”
 
In our opening anthem today we stated that, “In the midst of life we are in death; from whom can we seek help?” Paradoxically, Byrdie’s life proclaimed that even in the midst of death - of those things that would deny us life - we proclaim and live life abundantly, because in the gift of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ we know that love and life are more powerful than death. When we ask, “from whom do we seek help?” Byrdie’s life proclaimed that we seek it in Jesus, who is our life. 

Her witness to the power of Jesus’ love to heal all our foolish divisions and brokenness is one we are called to take to heart and strive to emulate in our own lives. We honor her and her life when we do so. It is Byrdie’s greatest gift to us.

We grieve the loss of Byrdie. Her death leaves a gaping hole in so many places. I miss her so much: at the Sunday 8:00 service, seeing her empty seat, hurts. Not hearing Carol offer her the Peace and calling her BC, hurts. Not seeing her dressed elegantly, glowing with that radiant smile, hurts. No longer hearing her read the scripture so passionately, hurts. Knowing she will no longer be at my side serving as my chalice bearer, hurts. Not hearing her tell the stories of her life’s rich experiences, hurts. Yes, even having her at my office door wanting to fuss with me, hurts. It all hurts. I miss her so much.
 
Even in my hurting, I am assured as a Christian that even at the grave we make our song “Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.” Such is the power of love over death. Our grief, my sisters and brothers, will subside in time. It will be supplanted by the love that Byrdie had for us and that we had for her. Love heals. Love is the way. Love is everything. 

In our own time, one day we will rejoin Byrdie in that place where “life is changed,” but “not ended.” I suspect that when we get there, she will make a grand entrance on a Harley; she will be on the ultimate “great ride.” She will smile that radiant smile and wave at us enthusiastically. When she gets off the bike, she’ll remove her helmet and give us warm loving embraces. And then the music will start and we will laugh and sing and dance and carry on into eternity; safe and secure in God’s loving care, forever.

Amen.