A few extra seconds was all it took to be sure that the man behind me in church remembered our family. The gentle eye-contact and careful smile was accompanied by a few extra seconds of our hand shake and words of "peace to you."
That man was our funeral director.
That man was the one who dressed my baby in the pink dress we bought for her, just for that day.
That was the man who gently suggested I leave her baptismal blanket with him to be placed in the casket with her for eternal rest. She had her pink booties on, too, the ones they gave her in the NICU. That was also the man who typed the wrong date for Caitlin's obituary, which had the effect of me feeling like she lived a few less days. It was horribly painful, and he wanted to correct it, but the paper would charge him (that meant us) another $400 to reprint. REALLY!!!! Well, my sis managed to shame the paper into correcting the on-line version for free, but the print remained incorrect. It was hard to stay angry with the one who shook my hand with a careful smile and a few extra seconds. We wrote no check for his services, and I still don't know why. But, I think it might have something to do with those few extra seconds.
Peace.
I wonder if he might have lost a baby too. He might have first hand knowledge of where you have been.
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