Cimetaro

A couple of days ago I had the pleasure to be sitting on the #41 water bus from Fondamenta Nove going to Murano, in the Lagoon, just off the Island of Venice, Italy. It is the trip of a lifetime for my wife, who has always wanted to walk the streets of Venice and see the glass makers on the little island off the coast, so needless to say, our senses were kicked into overdrive - seeing and hearing everything as if all sensory input to us was coming through some giant amplifier - in short, we were all amped up!






As we walked to the boat, we noticed a bunch of people buying flowers from a street vendor near the stop and, in particular noticed a little older lady - tiny and bent from her years, but cute as can be, with a large armload of the beautiful flowers. Of course, being the sentimental Americans we are, with our picture of Italian life being that all the little older ladies have laundry hanging outside their windows and beautiful flowers on their tables and in their window boxes (which, I must confess, many of them do), figured that she was headed home after a morning at the market with her daily fresh flowers. We boarded the boat with her, taking in the sights and sounds of this part of Venice, which is much more of a neighborhood than in many places- with mom's and kids and workmen and retirees, all piling in to head to their island home, or about their business there. To the left, on the horizon, were the Alps, majestic, almost other worldy - like the way the moutains look in the Lord of the Rings movies - their snowcapped peaks providing the perfect backdrop for our magical day. You see, everything seemed to be pretty and wonderful...perfect. It was just like we had imagined it all...even better.





It is only a short way to the first stop, just across the lagoon water, with the little commuter boat bumping along over the waves, so before long the driver gunned the reverse engines - which seem as if they might just vibrate the boat into pieces, or fall clear off the boat when they kick in. We slowed and pulled up roughly to our only stop between F. Nove and Murano. It is the Island of San Michele. The stop? Cimetero.





You see, the island of San Michele has only one thing on it - a cemetary. No tourists were exiting here, it was not busy or bustling. In fact, most of the people on the boat didn't even realize that the little older lady with the beautiful bundle of flowers slowly made her way off the boat and through the gates of the cemetary. There was little doubt in our minds as to what the flowers were for now...not for her table, or her window box...not for her grandchildren or other familys' tables. These beautiful fresh flowers were for the grave of someone dear to her...someone she wanted to remember, to commemorate, to go on loving, even though they were no longer in this world with her.





The contrast of our expectations for what the lady was doing with her flowers and what she actually did with them staggered us for a moment - Melissa even having a near brush with tears over the lady's grief and remembrance.





It prompted me to begin thinking about some questions:





First - Do I notice people enough to realize that they are not always doing/feeling/being what I think they are when I first glance at them? How many people who live in my neighborhood look happy and contented, seeming like they are heading home to put their flowers on the table when in fact they are grief stricken/broken/lost/hurting and taking their flowers to the cemetary?





We can notice them. We must pray to see them, clearly. We must be willing to give up our tight grip on all the things we need to "get done" - our schedules, our agendas. We must be willing to do things that may cause us pain, or at least be uncomfortable - like talking to people when we're shy, helping someone with money when we have very little to spare, getting less sleep in order to serve, having less personal time doing what we want in order to give time to someone who needs it.





My advice? Ask. Ask God to show you today, in the next hour, day, whatever time frame, someone who needs - someone hurting, etc. Then look - expect to see them. Then do - in the moment, pray short - "Help me Lord." Then allow yourself to do what seems to be the right thing in the moment. Then trust - He will use you to make a difference in a way that you were uniquely made to be used.





Second - Consider living today as if this were the last chance you had to love...as if tomorrow you were to be the one who was on the boat, headed to San Michele Island, the Cimetaro stop, with your flowers.

Death, we know, is inevitable - this can be a bummer, if you end the thought there. But, if we live every day loving, deeply. If we extract from every moment the wonder and awesomeness of how God has made the world and how he has blessed us with people to love and given us this amazing world to savor, we throw God's love in the face of death! Not only that, we, as followers of the resurrected Jesus, who died and came to life again through the power of His Father, know - hear this - we KNOW that death is simply a change of scene in the wonderful creation story God is writing in mankind. In this way, everything we do and say and are can be a beautiful part of God's story. All the love we share contributes to God's creating in this world, and death is no end to the creativity of God. Now, I understand, this does not mean that there is not pain in separation from those we love when they die. As I have experienced, and so will you, if you have not already, the pain is real, excruciating. But the victory is equally real and we neglect to see it as clearly as we should. Take some time and pray over this. Allow God to move His eternalness into your mind and world - you may just find that the celebration of Easter becomes a daily event! He is risen! He is risen indeed! Please don't take this as a cute, trite "Sunday School" answer to the devastating pain you may be feeling, even right now. I have been there, buried those I loved beyond imagination. But in this truth, I find the joy, yes the joy, of the whole thing - life, death, and all in between and after. Please, if you struggle with this, talk to God about it. Not fancy and Churchy. Just simple, from the heart. Ask Him to begin to heal you, to move your pain in this direction, to bring new creation out from the depths of the cimetero. If you struggle with appreciating those you love - take this as a wake-up call - love deeply, completely, give yourself, unreservedly, as if tomorrow you will be separated from them. Don't let pettiness, business, personal agendas, etc get in the way of doing what God wants you to do - release all these to Him and love.





I certainly plan to