So(ul)journ!

“I buried Joe,” a colleague friend wrote to me. 

“He had military honors. His family was there.”

She went on to share that the nursing home did not tell his own family he had passed, and there was going to be an investigation. He had blown the whistle on their care of him, and they were not kind. He is buried in Manchester—where he had a plot gifted by the church because the people charged with his care disregarded his arrangements. 

The funeral home actually called her because she often does services for those who don’t have a pastor. When she said yes to the service she couldn’t believe it was for Joe.

She explained that Joe was a member of her church before he moved to Westminster. She shared that she used to take Joe to appointments at the VA. When he moved she encouraged him to connect with my church since it was so close to him.”I was thankful that I was able to be there at the graveside.”

It was kismet. A moment when something by chance seemed like it was meant to be. What a consolation! Joe was cared for by his former pastor, his family present and received all that he was deserving. I’m thankful to my colleague, I have known her and her husband for many years–a wonderful clergy couple.  The nursing home seemed to have wanted ill for Joe; the manner in which God, the universe, whoever you may understand or choose or not to believe in, honored Joe with what was deserving when he could not speak for himself. Oh, and when I spoke to the cemetery trustee to locate Joe’s grave, he shared that a memorial marker has been ordered and should arrive soon and then he will install it. There is something beautiful about the way this story has concluded.

Joe’s story reminds me that even when systems fail, grace has a way of breaking through. There is something almost sacramental in the way his journey concluded—not through the planned arrangements of human hands but through the unexpected care of someone who knew him and honored his dignity.

Perhaps that is the deeper calling for all of us: to be attentive to the moments where we can offer consolation and dignity to one another, especially when the world falls short. Joe’s life, and the way it was honored in the end, is a testament to this—an invitation to consider how we care for the vulnerable, how we guard their stories, and how we show up when they can no longer speak for themselves.

I believe that Joe found his way back home, and was cared for by someone who knew him and cared for him– at the close of life isn’t that what we most desire?