space

My day today had its heart very much in the service of thanksgiving held, mid-day, across on the south side of town.

Mortonhall Crematorium is a relatively modern building, a striking example of the work of Basil Spence.

Never mind that the roof was leaking and the water was pouring down like a leaking tap. It made the whole odd notion of 'baptising the dead' begin to make some sense (I'm kidding, of course!).

It's a spacious sort of building. Simple and, in its own very concrete way, sort of 'soaring' as well. A dignified setting, without ever going over-the-top. And the grounds are very spacious and spread out as well.

I guess it's 'space' we need at times like this. And the worship we engage in at such times as this, that, too, affords us 'space'. Space within the broad and warm expansiveness of God. Space to mourn and grieve and feel ourselves enfolded in the comfort of God's presence and his care.

You can't do that in a cramped and rushed environment. God's too big to fit in neat, little corner cupboards in our lives. He needs the space. We need to give him space.

And Basil Spence's building does just that, of course.

It was in the larger chapel that the service was being held. Which was just as well, both in terms of the numbers of people present and the time the whole thing took.

I think, like George himself, the modest, quiet humility of Ruth had made her feel there wouldn't be a massive crowd of people gathered there. But there were. Loads of folk, from all different parts of George's life. And a wonderful spirit of praise.

One of the mourners present came up and spoke with me thereafter. She was expressing appreciation and she said - You've obviously done this before!

Not with George I haven't! I laughingly replied.

But it made me think of a different sort of space we need. The space to learn, to work at things. To make mistakes.

I think that's something Jesus gave his followers. And gives us, too. Space to learn just how life can be lived.

And I'm glad of the space he gives to me like that. He runs a risk in using folk like me. But he sees not only what I am, but also what I may yet be as well.

He thinks in that future tense. And he gives me the space to grow into the future stature which he longs that I should reach.

The family had laid on a lunch for folk and they'd kindly asked me back.

Space again. A bright and upstairs room within the Royal Burgess Clubhouse. With a wonderful view right across the spacious golf course.

And the space to talk, of course. Too often in our pressurised, diarised lives, there isn't the space to talk. We maybe sometimes pencil in a 'block of time', a 'slot'. But 'slots of time' are not the same as space.

And it's space we need. Not least at times like this. The space to talk. It was lovely to meet such a range of folk and bask in the reservoir of memories that all of them retained of George. So many different people and so many varied ways in which they'd each of them known George.

It was like having the chance to see the man through just so many different pairs of eyes.

Most folk feel much better in the aftermath of sharing time like that.

It's a sad day always, of course. But there's something refreshing and cleansing in enjoying occasions like that.

The space to enjoy the expansive compassion and care of the Lord, an oceanful of gently lapping waves of soothing grace caressing all the sorrows, hurts and burdens of our hearts.

The space for us to go out and explore again the good things in our lives, the people who have meant so much to us, the memories that we've shared.

The space to talk, to reconnect, to find out once again, without the pressures or constraints of modern life, the beauty of community - the riches of our family life, the bonds of lasting friendships which unite us in that network of humanity.

It was a good day. And the space, there was in all these different ways, to mark again the end of George's life - that space spread out and spanned (what with the travel there and back as well) the larger part of all my day has held.

There wasn't much space for anything else!

A bit of preparation. But not that much. A bit of writing letters. But not that much. A bit of seeing people. But not that much.

God made the world in such a way that all of us should have the 'space' we need.

But we crowd our time, we crowd our daily diaries 'til every moment's spoken for and spent; we cram our different places with so many chunky things.

No wonder, then, no wonder we don't find we seem to have the space we, deep down, know we need.