The Plan Was...

...That we'd all participate.  Wes's siblings, our parents, a few life long friends, me, even the children.

            

It was a good plan. It was what Wes and I wanted.  I just wasn't sure how it would play out.  I worried most about Lucy and Spencer.  Was it asking too much to expect them to be brave?  Brave enough to sing at their father's funeral? 

After putting their names on the program, I talked with them and practiced with them.  They seemed fine.  Excited.  Willing.  The least emotional of us all, really.  They'd been surrounded by love and friendship. 

Some of the dearest moments of those days for me were witnessing the visitors who came especially for them. 

Like Lucy's Kindergarten teacher. 

And handfuls of their dearest playmates and primary friends.

I love this picture of me hugging one of my best friends while Lucy was hugging one of hers.

So maybe the plan would work.  After all, their cousins would be there beside them.  And their Grandma Packer, the virtual embodiment of how-to-delight-children,

 would be leading the music.  So I was hopeful. 

 

But then we gathered for the family prayer (offered  by my dear dad).  And I helped Lucy and Spencer lay the flowers they'd chosen inside Wes's casket. 

And then we had to step away.  

I held Lucy as Wes's casket was closed.  

I saw her groping for words, wanting someone to do something!   To open it back up!  Tears came to her beautiful eyes for the first time all week.  Panicky tears, that exactly matched the emotion rising in my own chest and throat.

Watching those tears trickle down Lucy's cheek, hearing the raw sound of her crying, those were some of the most unbearable moments of my life. 

Somehow I reminded her what was happening - that the casket was closing to protect her daddy's body, that we'd walk right by the casket and sit near it during the funeral.  Somehow I carried her and walked down the hall to the chapel. 

And somehow, when her turn in the program came, she sang. 

She sang so beautifully.  Spencer too.  They hardly hesitated.  Just walked right up to the microphone.  Spencer was too short, even on a stool, for anyone to see him.

But he said (in a two-year-old blur), "Hi, I'm Spencer Dee and this is Lucy."

Then Lucy leaned close to the microphone and said her practiced words, "Spencer and I want you to hear the special song our dad used to sing at bedtime.  The words are tricky to understand because they are in Norwegian.  If you don't speak Norwegian, you can read what the words mean right here!"  and she lifted a copy of the funeral program in the air. 

They sang the first verse of that favorite Norwegian lullaby.  The melody is the same as "Beautiful Savior," and when they finished, their cousins joined them with the familiar English lyrics,

Fair is the sunshine,
Fairer the moonlight
And all the stars in heav’n above;
Jesus shines brighter,
Jesus shines purer
And brings to all the world his love.

Beautiful Savior!
Lord of the nations!
Son of God and Son of Man!
Thee will I honor, praise, and give glory,
Give praise and glory evermore!

Those moments - listening to them sing - were some of the most beautiful moments of my life.  And all of that beauty resurfaces when I listen to the recorded purity of their dear little voices.   

Several months after Wes's funeral, the children and I were assigned to speak in Sacrament meeting.  The night before, they assembled all of their stuffed animals as a congregation and we laughed and practiced together and talked about the truths we wanted to share.  Then Lucy, visibly filled with joy from head to toe, said,  "Sometimes when I think about Dad, I don't really feel very nervous.  Sometimes,"  she hesitated, struggling to put her beautiful feelings into words, "Sometimes when I think about things that are...sacred...I just want to do it!!  So badly!!"

I smiled and cried and hugged her.  I knew what she felt was this:

 There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.

And this:

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

As it turned out, Spencer fell asleep just before our part in that Sacrament meeting program, and Lucy forgot the little card with her talk's little outline, which events rocked the previous evening's enthusiasm and led to me being the only one at the microphone. =)

Which was no problem.  I'm just grateful to know that a spark of recognition is growing in her little soul.  Their little souls.  Recognition that love drives away fear.  It was something their daddy knew and tried to live.  Something they felt when they stood in front of the overflowing congregation at his funeral and sang "Deilig Er Jordan." 

Which is actually a Norwegian Christmas carol. 

I love the subsequent verses:

First to the shepherds
sweetly the angels
sang it at midnight, a song of morn:
"Glory to God on high,
peace and good will to men.
Today is Christ, our Saviour, born!"

Ages are coming,
roll on and vanish.
Children shall follow where fathers passed.
Never our pilgrim song,
joyful and heavenborn,
shall cease while time and mountain last.

I hope that my little angels, inspired by the memory of their father, prodded by voice of the Spirit, will ever sing that "song of morn" - that beautiful message, "joyful and heavenborn."  I hope all of us will.  For all the world to hear.