In life and in death...

We belong to God! The news of Elaine Dutton's death on Tuesday night has left us all stunned. Just last week, she presided at the Table at presbytery inviting us all to come. And we come we did-each one of us-and we were fed. How thankful I am for that memory as I begin to take in the reality of her death.

She was driving to a session meeting. The elders who awaited her arrival were delighting in her leadership at presbytery-what a wonderful start to her ministry in our midst. And then came the call. She had hit black ice and started to swerve off the road. In response, she overcompensated and hit a pick up truck head on in the oncoming lane. She was pronounced dead at the scene.   Elaine was 31 years old.

Now comes the challenge of making sense out of that which is senseless and awful. Now comes the prayer for Elaine's family and the New Harrisburg congregation.   Now comes the grieving.

Grief is a funny thing. It has the power to close off our hearts or open them up. How we respond to death-be it the death of one we love, or the death of a way of life, or even the death of a dream-shapes how we respond to life. As Christians, we are called to find new beginnings in death. And storytelling is the primary means by which we engage in the work of grieving. Storytelling for the sake of making memory, for memories are the place of consolation.

Australian Michael Leunig calls us to "live in such a way that when we die our love will survive and continue to grow." I have no doubt that Elaine's love for her family, her congregation, her friends and colleagues will survive and continue to grow. For that is the way she lived. That said, I hope we honor Elaine's death by choosing life.

There is sometimes a tendency in death, especially tragic deaths, to "make saints of flesh and blood," forgetting that we are all called to be saints (see Romans 1).   Sometimes we get stuck and find ourselves unable to live forward.   The sad reality, of course, is that when we fail to live forward-even in our brokenness-we fail to honor the life of the one we have lost to death. As Abba Poeman reminds us: Out of the hollow of grief, there is more room for joy to dwell therein.

As we ponder those hollows carved out in grief in our own lives, may we allow the stories we share to evoke the full mixture of emotions that there may indeed be more room for joy to dwell therein.

With love in Christ,