It's time to stop and eat the flowers

We got some bad news. A twenty year old woman named Ruth was struck by lighting yesterday. She was at a soccer game. The storms come and go so quickly. She was beautiful. She was just received into the Catholic Church last Easter. So sad.

Mark and I decided the weather prevented us from going that night to her family's home for prayers. They live far away and the dirt road is treacherous. Instead, we announced at the Sunday Mass that we were going and if anyone wanted a ride, we would take them. Very few parishioners have vehicles. Maybe a hand full.

We loaded up the pick up with good people who just wanted to be there for the others. That is something I really appreciate. When someone dies, everyone shows up. They just are there, sitting outside, all around the road. They keep vigil. Sometimes they sing or pray the rosary. Or sometimes they are just silently mourning together. When you feel that sad, it is good to know others care, even if they can't fix it.

Even though we were heading to a funeral, the packed truck was joyful and laughter could be heard all through the valley. I drove. What a road! It feels like a serious workout with all the bouncing and sliding. You never heard such sincere prayers as a truck full of slap-happy Salvadorans sliding toward a cliff in the priest-mobile.

The standard for a good road in El Salvador is if you are able to move forward. This was not a good road. We had to walk part of the distance. We cut through the forest and over a corn field. The view was fantastic. Three waterfalls could be seen in the distance.

Along the way, the woman kept plucking flowers and eating them. All kinds of strange things are apparently edible if you are bold enough to chew on it. I'm not quite there yet.

The little chapel in Paraiso, which was built in memory of my grandmother, was packed. The immediate family came and hugged Fr. Mark and I. A little girl was crying as she hugged her dad. I remember when I was in the second grade, my classmate drowned. I know how scary and world-shaking it is for her. I sat and told her that a priest speaks God's words. "God made a promise to Ruth. Ruth is God's loved one so, even if she dies, he will rescue her from the grave and she will live with him in heaven. Her body is here, but her soul has gone to a place where there are no tears and they are having a great party. We are sad, because we miss her. But, she's not sad. Not with Jesus. She is so happy, there are no words to describe it."

Her crying and breathing slowed. She followed every word I was saying while leaning against her dad. If I'd look at her, she'd hide her face. So I told the story as if I could see the heavens up in the sky. And she looked for it too. And that calmed her.

Don't we all need to look for heaven to find a little peace? We just don't know when lighting will take our lives. But we do know that Jesus will be there to give us a new life. And that just makes me want to stop, take a deep breath, and eat the flowers.