I'm driving through rural South Texas, en route to officiating a funeral in the small town of Nixon.  I'm in a hurry, but am forced to slow down periodically whenever my car slashes through another thick cloud of American Snout butterflies.  I know that the prolonged drought, combined with recent rains, have caused them to emerge in unusually large numbers, but I hadn't experienced anything quite like this.  Hundreds of them splatter off my windshield every minute, sounding like a violent rainstorm, making it almost impossible to see the road at times.
 
Death and loss are on my mind, because today's funeral is just one of three that I will be conducting this week for members of the Circle community. Steering through the swarms of swirling butterflies, I reflect on the souls and faces of all three of the deceased, and imagine myself swimming through waves of love sent to and from the families of Beatrice Pennell (grandmother of Shannon Petty and mother of Jeanne Presnell); Israel "Chai" Cuellar (brother to Linda Cuellar); and Martin Peters (husband of Barbara Peters). 
 
Meanwhile, the car radio drones in the background with NPR stories about the huge losses mounting in the wake of Hurricane Ike.  And the further losses resulting from the fiery financial storm which has made many of our nation's major financial institutions start tumbling like dominoes:  Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, Lehman Brothers, Merrill Lynch and AIG are all teetering on the brink of doom. The radio reporters note that the American people, already nervous about gas prices at the pump, housing slumps, joblessness and global warming, are losing confidence in the American economy.  The reporters say this may be the most devastating loss of all.
 
The drumbeat of loss is compelling, and I can feel myself falling under its spell during my long drive to the cemetery.  But then I arrive at the gravesite and meet the family and friends gathered under the canopy. There are plenty of tears flowing around the open casket, but lots of supportive hugs and smiles, too. And as soon as we launch into the ceremony, the rich flow of readings, prayers, songs and memories fills us with Love and points us back toward the Infinite.  Reminds us that that life doesn't really ever stop - it's just continuously changing forms. That "losing" anyone or anything is just another opportunity to explore and embrace newness.
 
Suddenly, the same crisp breeze that seemed so ominous earlier now carries a surge of welcome energy.  The same flocks of butterflies that foretold doom as they were being violently dashed against my zooming car are now flitting freely, providing an uplifting backdrop to our memorial service.  I can almost hear them humming along with our closing hymn, "I am free, I am unlimited, there are no chains that bind me."  Thanks for the reminders!
 
With blessings and hopes of seeing you around the Circle,