"God blesses those who mourn..." Matthew 5:4

Today began unlike any other day. It was a day of privelege, honor, love, and tremendous respect. Godwin, Mr. Chairman at George Compound, requested assistance with the funeral of an elderly woman. Nyumbu Nyamusangu was 76 years old, and we were told died of stomach pains. We arrived at George to find men dressed in suits and ties, and women in their best shetanges. The ladies of the church soon appeared, wearing white blouses and shetanges bearing the name of their church, New Apostolic, and white headdresses with crosses etched on the back. They came from behind one of the buildings, carrying the coffin and singing most reverently. The coffin was a narrow box, covered in green velvet, with four gold keys on top. The ladies gently slid the coffin onto the back of the truck, gathered flowers from those standing nearby, and about forty mourners, mostly family, friends, and preachers from the community gathered round the coffin in back of the truck for the trek to Ndola General Hospital. There was continual singing during the drive into town. Beautiful voices, harmonizing their beliefs that death will not separate us, but we will all be joined together in heaven with Jesus, another day, another time. When we reached the hospital, nearly everyone exited the truck. Ron and I along with Godwin, six church ladies, and one relative drove to the very rear of the hospital - an area dark and puddled with water, and there we entered the bowels of the hospital. While Godwin and another man carried the coffin into the building through a tiny entrance, the ladies put on exam gloves. We were escorted into a waiting area, where others were gathered near another coffin. The odor took my breath away for a moment. It was pungent and unlike anything I have ever known. Very soon we were taken into the morgue along with the others. I watched, as the other group identified their loved one. And then our group. Afterwards, they went into a large room which had two tables, a sink, and large plastic tubs. Godwin explained the ladies from church would wash the body and dress Nyumbu in preparation for burial. This was their gift to Nyumbu and her family. A profound display of love and respect. By this time, there were five additional coffins in the waiting area, and the hallway was crowded with those waiting. I felt like I was watching all of this from far away, that it couldn't be really happening. And I found my way to the outside, only to be asked by the relative to return to take one last photograph of Nyumbu. One last remembrance. It was a great privelege, although I will admit my hands were shaking a bit. She was dressed and powdered, gently placed in the coffin, and then lovingly wrapped in a blanket. As we returned to the truck, it was discovered we had a flat tire. So we had to leave most everyone at the hospital and drive to the repair shop to have the spare put on. It was a short delay, as when the workers saw the coffin, they worked very quickly so as to not delay the funeral. We returned to the hospital to pick up everyone, and began the drive to the cemetery. Godwin explained that if someone dies when they are at the hospital burial is at a different cemetery than if someone dies at home. Once again, there was constant singing for the entire drive to the cemetery. And it was a long drive out of town to Kantolomda, to the cemetery on the hill. And we followed the others we had seen at the hospital. We made a long processional of trucks overloaded with grieving families and carrying coffins, and bus after bus carrying more family and friends. We know that life is so very fragile here in Zambia, but it was still shocking to see hundreds, and hundreds of people gathered at so many grave sites at the cemetery. Then the mourning truly began. It was not crying, although there were many tears, it was heart wrenching, from the soul, wailing. The ladies from the church helped and comforted the family. The coffin was placed under a tree, and everyone gathered nearby. Most of the women sat on the ground, while the men remained standing. The church choir, with ten of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard, sang several songs. The first preacher began the service (in Bemba) by reading John 11, of how Lazarus was raised from the dead. A second minister translated everything into another tribal variation of Bemba. He also read Romans 6:14 "Sin is no longer your master, for you no longer live under the requirements of the law. Instead, you live under the freedom of God's grace." Two more ministers read from the Bible, and spoke for some time. The choir sang many beautiful songs, and then it was time to pay final respects to the deceased. The top portion of the coffin was folded back to revela Nyumbu's face, and the ministers ushered the mourners past. Many made the sign of the cross, many spoke words we didn't understand, but we didn't need to - their meaning was clear. Once the last mourner had passed, the gold keys were turned by the ministers to seal the coffin. During the service, several men from the community had dug the grave with pick axes and shovels. The coffin was placed on top of the soil next to the grave, and the preachers and choir continued with the service. Then several of the men lowered the coffin into the grave, and one of the ministers took a shovel full of soil. Each of the preachers spoke, took a handful of soil and deposited it in the grave. Then the men began filling the grave with the soil. This too is a gift, and many men took part in this ceremony to show their deep respect for Nyumbu. They carefully mounded the soil, and the ladies from New Apostolic Church surrounded the grave and removed any stones, roots or twigs which remained - once more, displaying their love and respect. One of the ministers now began reading names, and as each name was called, the person came forward to place flowers on the grave. It was a great honor that we were included in this ceremony. I was given a flower to place on Nyumbu's grave. We were most graciously thanked during the conclusion of the ceremony. It was truly an honor and a privelege. This is something we will never forget. We have so much to learn... Some images I will never forget - the minister's solemn respect, the man standing tall and proud dressed in his best suit with the sleeves too long and his shirt collar frayed beyond recognition, and the church ladies who cared for this woman and her family so very dearly. "Comfort, comfort my people, says our God." Isaiah 40:1