A Time to Mourn

A Time to Mourn

For everything there is a season,

and a time for every purpose under heaven.

A time to weep, and a time to laugh,

A time to mourn, and a time to dance.

Ecclesiastes 3:1,4

When I was 9 years old, my mom decided that I needed to learn a musical instrument in additional to piano.  Because we already owned a ¾ size violin, she naturally assumed that was the instrument I was destined to play.  She searched around until she found Mr. Otto (the name  has been changed to protect the innocent), a violin maker and accomplished teacher.  He welcomed me into his backyard studio – packed with violins in various stages of workmanship.  It was fascinating.

Playing the violin, however, was not.  No matter how I tried, I was not successful in making anything that sounded like music.  Squeaks, yes.  Music, no.  I was born with perfect pitch, and no one was more aware than I was of my tuneless playing.  I, who love music, found the violin pure torture.  I loved Mr. Otto, but I hated the violin.

Fast forward  almost five years.  I was still scratching away at the violin and keeping up with my piano and voice lessons.  My mom had added a small Hammond Organ to our arsenal, and I had learned it well enough to land my first job!  I was on call to play and sing for funeral services at several local mortuaries.  One sunny summer morning, I was called to play and sing for a service downtown.  When I arrived and glanced at the program, I discovered that the deceased was Mr. Otto.

My mother was stunned and I was devastated.  I managed to play the service, but I could not sing.  This was my first acquaintance with the death of someone I loved, and there were many tears.  Yes, I mourned, but at the same time, there was a tiny celebration dance growing deep down inside:  I knew I would never have to play the violin again!

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In the bulb there is a flower, in the seed, an apple tree;

In cocoons, a hidden promise: butterflies will soon be free.

In the snow and cold of winter there’s a spring that waits to be,

Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

In our end is our beginning, in our time, infinity;

In our doubt there is believing, in our life, eternity.

In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,

Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

The United Methodist Hymnal, No. 707