Today was a day of having people over. It was kind of nice, actually.
John arrived while the flat was still a disaster of Christmas boxes, partially decorated everything, things still needing another dusting and the floor needing a good vacuum. He came in from Kiev on the train and wanted a shower. Alas, the water pressure was still too low, so he had to wait until closer to noon before that could happen - but it eventually did.
Mel and John left to go have lunch together at a cafe where they could talk privately about a variety of things. I got busy finishing prep for dinner, and then started finishing decorating and cleaning. Busy, busy over here at this flat, wanting it to look really good for our guests tonight.
Soon the doorbell rang and it was Alexei from Nikolaev ready to meet with John and Mel. I sent him down the street a few meters to the cafe. An hour or so later Mel returned . The other guys went on in to the first floor flat we rent as an 'office' and mostly storage area, to wait for the rest of the Session to have their regular weekly meeting. Mel informed me that a funeral was going on outside our entryway.
Sure enough. Last night "the keeper of the stairwell" came by to ask for donations for someone. Mel and I neither one understood her completely. We thought someone was having a hard time and needed financial help of some kind. She mentioned our neighbor across the landing from us. We know that she had been widowed just a few weeks after we moved in here several years ago, and lived alone on her pension. She lived very poorly, didn't even have the electricity hooked up to her flat. I have wondered many times that never once in all the years we have lived here have I ever seen anyone visit her, go in or come out of her flat other than her, and she just one time. One time! We heard from "the keeper of the stairwell" earlier this year that she was in bad shape mentally and couldn't remember how to do simple things like turn on and off the hot water heater correctly (could have blown up our whole section of the building). So, we made a donation and I made a mental note to ask Olya K. to be a translator for me and I'd find out who it was for sure and see if there was some other way we could help (like a bag of groceries, or a bill paid anonymously, etc).
Instead, today there was a funeral. We are still not sure if it was this neighbor or someone else who died. Mel said that when he came in he tried to look in the casket to identify the person without being super obvious about it, but, let's be honest, sometimes at that point it's hard to tell who the person is, especially if you've only ever seen them a few times. (Sorry Olya if this is not easy to read again. :) ) In an Orthodox funeral, a fancy scarf is placed over a woman's hair and a paper with verses written on it is placed across the forehead. The face is visible, but surrounded and partially covered.
The priest came and started the Russian/Ukrainian Orthodox funeral. Lots of singing by both him and one or two women, lots of incense being wafted around. Lots of people standing around the entrance to the building. I looked out from off the balcony but did not recognize anyone - I was seeing mostly the tops of people's heads.
John came upstairs and got his overnight bag, talked for a few minutes and took off to go back to Kiev. I finished all my housework, finished all I could with dinner, played a couple games on the computer, and spent some time just thinking about things.
Finally the meeting downstairs finished and Mel and Sergei K. came upstairs. It was so good to see Sergei again! It has been awhile since he and Olya have been able to come over for dinner and I have missed having them here. (Yes, I saw them on Sunday, but somehow it is different when they come over for dinner - more like having one of the kids come home for dinner, or something.)
Sergei is like a son to us in many ways. We love him dearly. We also love his Olya dearly. :) It was about 45 minutes later that Olya and her papa finally showed up. Papa is staying with them for a couple weeks to help them in the major renovations they are doing to their house. Including building a new kitchen on to the existing house. I guess it is getting to be almost done!
So, we sat around the table, eating and chatting. Lots of talking and laughing. Stories told. Mostly in English with translation for papa, but some in Russian as well. Around the table, in our flat, newly decorated for Christmas. Around the table decorated for Christmas (with the two fish enjoying a new view in here beside the computer for a few hours). Enjoying roast pork, green beans almondine, mashed potatoes, black and green olives, a cabbage salad, tomato and cucumber slices, bread and for dessert, apple Betty. Coffee and tea after, and then some photos on the computer from our last trip through Wyoming and Montana a few years ago.
It was really nice. Relaxing. Like old times in many ways. I have missed having people over. I have missed it a lot! Now that it is the holiday season I hope we can have a lot more over. Starting tomorrow with another young couple we love dearly. Next week - well, I have some ideas about who to invite for next week, too! Hopefully the season is over of people being so busy with just trying to live that they have no time for anything else, and they can now have more time for enjoying life and other people and Christian fellowship. I hope so!
Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funeral. Show all posts
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Thursday, April 06, 2006
"The Dying Time"
April 6, 2006
There was a funeral in the podyezhd next door this morning. I only noticed it because I stepped out on the balcony to bring in a drying shirt that was flapping against the bars in the strong breeze. I glanced down between the bars of the railing to the left, and there was a small group of people gathered together. A table, covered by a white cloth, was set out on the sidewalk in front of the door to the stair well. On the table were several items of food and a couple flowers. In front of the table, on the sidewalk between our building and the street, an open casket was balanced on two stools. It was just a little too far away for me to be able to see who was in the casket, but it looked like a woman. I have met several people who live in the entrance next door, so it may have been one of my acquaintances. Or, it could have been an old babushka I’ve never seen. As I stood watching for a few minutes, a car drove up and stopped in front of that podyezhd. The passenger door opened and a Ukrainian Orthodox priest got out. He was dressed in black robes and carried an incense holder on a chain and a Bible. He stepped up to the small group of people gathered there and began the funeral service. I turned and came back into the apartment.
Death in Ukraine is very “in your face.” In the States we hide death. Oh, don’t get me wrong! We watch “death” all the time in our movies and television programs, we read about it in books and stories, and we even have songs about people dying. But we hide “real death.” We do our best to ignore the fact that someday we will die – I will die, my husband will die, my children will die and so forth and so on. We use words like “pass away” and “gone to a better place” and even slang terms like “kick the bucket.” But how often do we hear the phrase – “XXX died yesterday.”
When Mel was pastoring the church out at Peyton, in the space of just one year we had several deaths in the community, a community of just 300-400 people. Mel officiated at nine funerals. Two of them were emotionally difficult for us as they were close friends of ours in the community – one death by a terrible truck accident and the other by a mysterious illness that turned out to be cancer of the blood vessels. One funeral was for a suicide and another was a murder victim. One of the saddest was the death of a newborn baby, the second newborn that young family had lost in two years. We listed them all out at the end of the year and realized that none of the deaths had been of ‘natural causes’ or simple old age.
I have only been with one person when they died, and that was my dear friend who died of cancer of the blood vessels. People talk of how ugly death is – and it is ugly. It is not the state we were created for. Our bodies were created to live, and to live fully and eternally. Death is truly our enemy.
Yet in another way, death is wonderful – death for a Believer in Christ. A passing from this sinful world into His presence, leaving the imperfect for the perfect. How thankful I am that in Christ Jesus I have that hope of death not being the end of all there is, but of knowing that it is just the passageway into life eternal.
The funeral is over now. Everyone has gone to the cemetery. After internment, the friends and relatives will probably go some place and eat a meal together.
It is a cold spring day. I was told by one of our young friends that spring is known as “the dying time.” I thought that odd, because I’ve always thought of spring as being the time of new life, new beginnings (baby chicks peeping, daffodils and tulips poking their way up out of the earth to burst into glorious bloom, little lambs frolicking in fresh green fields….). She explained. The winters are so difficult – bone chilling cold with little heat, and often there is hunger such as we in America have never known. Many people have the physical reserves to make it through the darkest part of the year, and then die when spring arrives.
I find that very sad.
There was a funeral in the podyezhd next door this morning. I only noticed it because I stepped out on the balcony to bring in a drying shirt that was flapping against the bars in the strong breeze. I glanced down between the bars of the railing to the left, and there was a small group of people gathered together. A table, covered by a white cloth, was set out on the sidewalk in front of the door to the stair well. On the table were several items of food and a couple flowers. In front of the table, on the sidewalk between our building and the street, an open casket was balanced on two stools. It was just a little too far away for me to be able to see who was in the casket, but it looked like a woman. I have met several people who live in the entrance next door, so it may have been one of my acquaintances. Or, it could have been an old babushka I’ve never seen. As I stood watching for a few minutes, a car drove up and stopped in front of that podyezhd. The passenger door opened and a Ukrainian Orthodox priest got out. He was dressed in black robes and carried an incense holder on a chain and a Bible. He stepped up to the small group of people gathered there and began the funeral service. I turned and came back into the apartment.
Death in Ukraine is very “in your face.” In the States we hide death. Oh, don’t get me wrong! We watch “death” all the time in our movies and television programs, we read about it in books and stories, and we even have songs about people dying. But we hide “real death.” We do our best to ignore the fact that someday we will die – I will die, my husband will die, my children will die and so forth and so on. We use words like “pass away” and “gone to a better place” and even slang terms like “kick the bucket.” But how often do we hear the phrase – “XXX died yesterday.”
When Mel was pastoring the church out at Peyton, in the space of just one year we had several deaths in the community, a community of just 300-400 people. Mel officiated at nine funerals. Two of them were emotionally difficult for us as they were close friends of ours in the community – one death by a terrible truck accident and the other by a mysterious illness that turned out to be cancer of the blood vessels. One funeral was for a suicide and another was a murder victim. One of the saddest was the death of a newborn baby, the second newborn that young family had lost in two years. We listed them all out at the end of the year and realized that none of the deaths had been of ‘natural causes’ or simple old age.
I have only been with one person when they died, and that was my dear friend who died of cancer of the blood vessels. People talk of how ugly death is – and it is ugly. It is not the state we were created for. Our bodies were created to live, and to live fully and eternally. Death is truly our enemy.
Yet in another way, death is wonderful – death for a Believer in Christ. A passing from this sinful world into His presence, leaving the imperfect for the perfect. How thankful I am that in Christ Jesus I have that hope of death not being the end of all there is, but of knowing that it is just the passageway into life eternal.
The funeral is over now. Everyone has gone to the cemetery. After internment, the friends and relatives will probably go some place and eat a meal together.
It is a cold spring day. I was told by one of our young friends that spring is known as “the dying time.” I thought that odd, because I’ve always thought of spring as being the time of new life, new beginnings (baby chicks peeping, daffodils and tulips poking their way up out of the earth to burst into glorious bloom, little lambs frolicking in fresh green fields….). She explained. The winters are so difficult – bone chilling cold with little heat, and often there is hunger such as we in America have never known. Many people have the physical reserves to make it through the darkest part of the year, and then die when spring arrives.
I find that very sad.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)