For Keziah

The sun shone blissfully through the large windows. Light flicked from some of the wooden surfaces and reflected prettily onto the walls of the church. The patterns could almost have been angels, I thought to myself from behind the piano; almost. Outside of course, the blue sky was perfectly laden with candyfloss clouds, and a gentle breeze was rippling silently through the treetops, softly changing their leafy colours and tickling their branches.

It was Keziah's farewell. Hundreds of us, brightly coloured and swimming in tears, gathered to celebrate the life of a girl who had shown us what it meant to be alive. Life, it seems, is there for the living, and in twenty years; no, in the four and a half years that Keziah was known to us, she lived more than most Christians live in a lifetime.

Extraordinary, and quite surreal it was. Just beforehand, someone asked me how I was feeling and I heard myself say that I simply wasn't sure. Deep within, there was joy and there was sorrow, mixed up, shaken together in this crazy way that made no sense. And I think that feeling must have been in the air because it permeated throughout the whole afternoon. As Yinka got up to share his reflections he broke down and sobbed quietly from the front. At the exact same moment, quite unaware I suppose, the entire congregation tried to sit down and burst into a giggly chatter as they navigated their way to the carpet. I found it strangely poignant.

There were other poignant moments of course. The standing ovation, the video that captured her heart so well, the rousing praise, and the love for God that almost tangibly filled the room as Alex, Keziah's fiance, thanked God for the time he had had with her. I don't know whether I would have had the strength to say this:

"I just want to bow down to thank and praise the LORD for creating the most amazing, loving and pure hearted person I ever knew. And even more, I want to thank Him for the pleasure, honour and delight of knowing, loving and being loved by you in such measure.

You were the most wonderful gift God ever gave me, and every second of the time you spent borrowed from God in my arms and by my side was treasured and priceless to me, full of joy and love.

I cannot be sad, as you have returned to your rightful place in the heavenly realms, where a spirit as large, bright and colourful as yours belongs.

I believe and trust with every essence of my being in the Glory of God in every situation, and that your short presence here is, and will forever continue to bear blessed fruit in the hearts of those who loved you and were loved by you.

We will meet again in the majesty of His Holy Kingdom." - Alex Theobald on Facebook.

Love, tears, joy, peace and wonder, collided for a moment. The colours swirled together as I looked out across the sea of faces. So many familiar smiles, so many lovely lovely people who were part of something - who are part of something, made complete and whole in the Presence of God. Not for the first time, love for Keziah, love for my friends and my family - and love for God, overwhelmed me like an ocean wave. It was a moment of Heaven.

And I don't think anything could have been more appropriate.

Flashback

So... time for a quick catchup. The Fun Day was awesome: no-one got lost, no-one fell off the climbing wall, and no-one (not even me) got stressed. Although there was one hairy moment during the line-dancing display, but frankly, I should have seen that coming.

London last weekend, was equally as much fun but for entirely different reasons. Whether it was the cloudless blue sky, the wind in the trees by the Embankment, or the delightful trip through Central London on an open-top bus, I don't know. What I do know is that I came home feeling tired, educated, happy, and sunburnt.

I like London. History seeps through the stones, landmarks appear round corners like familiar friends from childhood postcards, and everything fits together in a sort of melée of the ancient and the modern. I guess that sensation was summed up for me succinctly by floating up the Thames from Westminster. The London Eye, the Houses of Parliament, St Pauls, the Roman excavation site, Shakespeare's Globe, Tower Bridge glistening in the sunshine, and the Tower itself, all jostling together along the riverbank like characters from histories old and new. It was delightful.

-

"What are you up to these days?"asked Mike, supping a cool white wine. The sun caught his greying hair as he leaned back, just out of the shade of the large umbrella. I chuckled nervously.
"Well, it's been quite a time," I said, "but now I'm working as a technical writer in a software company."
"Ah,"he said contentedly, "documentation."

I felt like the only natural response was to smile knowingly, and agree. It wasn't without a little tear though. Mike's little boy ran around the garden, arms covered in sand from the sandpit. On the other side of the vast circular table, his wife chatted to friends and smiled happily. And I found myself drifting into a flashback of Mike, my friend from university, huddled into a cold corner of a student flat, crippled by depression, and me, perched on a beanbag, trying hard to tell him it wouldn't always be this way, praying for him and hoping beyond hope that God would do something. It had been so difficult to see, somehow. Funny how things change. The barbecue smoked gently in the corner, glasses chinked, wine glugged merrily, and the evening sun cast long summery shadows on the grass. Mike's friends laughed into the twilight in the garden of his lovely home.

I prayed about it on the drive home. I suppose I'm realising that we're all on different journeys, and we all go through different seasons. I moan a lot about things I haven't got. God knows this. I'm sure he chuckles at me from time-to-time. Other times he tells me off for coveting. And this time, it could have been easy for me to rocket down the motorway in floods of tears, shaking my fist at God and asking him where my future went to. But I didn't. I couldn't. I just found myself grateful that God had done something incredible for my friend, and that he was actually happy. And maybe one day, I thought. Maybe one day...