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Death Is Captivating
Last weekend, a friend mentioned that I needed to blog more often. She’s right, but I don’t like to blog unless I have something to say. I mean truly say. Today, I have something to say. 
Last night, I attended the first Bible study of a summertime study based on my book, When I Die. I was really looking forward to it, because it’s the foundation piece of a second Bible study group that is participating online at the same time. I’m challenged by the task of making the same topic of study meaningful in two separate venues, “live” and online, and doing so without making the online group have to go buy my book. Of course that would be wonderful, but that’s not the point. The point is to grow in the knowledge of God’s plans for us, individually and collectively. It’s a fun and intriguing challenge that I’m happily undertaking.
Back to my story, though. Last night, the first live meeting took place and women from numerous church backgrounds, separate churches of worship, and of differing age groups, all came together to begin this study. Not everyone knew each other, either. If you’ve read my book, then you know that funerals and death are the topic, but not the focal point of what I have to say. Living is. And yet, you put a group of women into a room together where they don’t know each other and you start talking about death, well, you just don’t know what might happen.
What happened was fascinating to me. Very quickly, almost everyone realized that it was easy to talk openly about death because it has affected us all. Even if we had not experienced a death “close to home,” we could see the impact it might have if those we love weren’t around anymore. Death is captivating like that. The great equalizer, as they say. The thing that is unavoidable, along with taxes, goes the other expression. And, clearly a sledgehammer to emotional walls between strangers that can be put up to protect our emotions and vulnerabilities. All that went out the window right away.
We may think we don’t want to talk about death, and that’s probably true for most people because we fear it on some level, but when we are willing to talk about death, amazing things happen. I’m witness to that, I’m richly blessed by that, and I think it’s worth saying.
“You learn more at a funeral than at a feast. After all, that’s where we’ll end up. We might discover something from it.” (Ecclesiastes 7:2, The Message Bible)
Contrasts in the Mail
My first order of books is due in any day. I can hardly wait, but at the same time, this is a time of contrasts and completions.
Last Christmas Eve, as a present to myself, I submitted my first book to a publisher after finishing my journey of writing it. I wrapped up the final adjustments on Christmas Eve, and off it went. My first book, to my first publisher. In March of this year, I got word that it had been accepted, and the journey of book publishing began. There were several months of editing, which is surprising to me since it’s a relatively short piece. Then, graphic design and layout began, and now, finally, it’s about to be Christmas Eve again, and my first copies are due – almost a year to the week of when I completed the writing process.
But this process is all new to me, and so each step is a journey. The next step is summed up in that word that some would call a “dirty word” – marketing. For now, during this “pre-release” phase, the book can only be purchased through the publisher or me. The official release date, slated for February, will be when the book can be purchased through Amazon, Borders, Barnes & Noble, etc., but for now, it’s the old-fashioned, spread the word kind of marketing. So, I’ve created a Facebook page that I hope you will go to and “Like,” so that I can keep you updated, or through my Twitter, if you’re a “tweeter.”
But that’s not what I’m mostly thinking about as I write this blog. No, what I’m thinking about is the contrast between being excited for fulfilling a long-held dream of mine – to write a book – and the reality that it’s not the book that I intended to write. It’s the book that God gave me. There’s also the contrast that I have in knowing that I have to talk about me and my story on some level to promote this book, and I’d much rather live quietly. What God gave me to say was such a blessing to me, though, so I can’t be quiet about it. Then, there’s the contrast that the book is written through the eyes of a funeral, but it’s really about living.
All of this comes at a time when just this week, I attended the funeral of a 17-year-old young man who took his own life. How am I supposed to reconcile talking about my book, when a family I know is deeply hurting right now?
There is no easy answer to this question, and no way to overlook the ironies of this timeline. It is in fact, this very type of irony that led me to write the book. Each step of this journey has been full of contrast and completion, irony and affirmation. For instance, one of the people who endorsed my book, a former astronaut and now artist, was influential in ways he will never fully understand regarding my original desire to write a book, but I had never had the chance to tell him that until recently.
But in this journey, I’m reminded that each step continues to be an unfolding of connections between people and events in my life. Whether I met them when I was a small child, or worshipped beside them in church this morning, I’ve been shaped by the contrasts and ironies in which I’ve shared life with others. There are some constants, like Christmas coming around again and funerals, but there are a lot of unknowns, too. I look forward to those, too, just like I do my box of books in the mail.
