Lunch

Today's good word is lunch. I'm thinking of not just any lunch but of that particular good lunch that is part of our community's funeral practice. You know the one I mean; the one that's provided by the women of the congregation, or supplemented by the neighbours' contributions--a loaf of tuna salad or egg sandwiches or a pan of squares because "You might need this." It's where we all gather back to after the service.

It's the place where the mourners and their supporters start to live without the somebody they've just said one more good-bye to. It's at the lunch that there is laughter shared over triangle sandwiches and trays of pickles and olives. It's here we finally have time to notice how big the baby has got since we last saw him and how much more frail great-aunt someone is this autumn.

Little groups form up around the tables or balance flimsy plates on laps as heads lean togther to share a remembrance while taking care not to upset the styrofoam coffee cup. There's a bit more time to realize who's actually taken time off work, or driven all the way from Kingston or Goderich to be together. People are circulating and saying hello to distant cousins or in-laws from afar, either in miles or years.

What is it that's happening over this lunch? A family is uniting, setting aside the differences that feel less important today; a community is closing the circle around some of its members who need special care. Time is slowing down for just a bit as we remember those ever-so-important principles of what really IS most precious to us.

Take time for one more macaroon and another cup of tea and tell your second cousin how very glad you are to see them.