Ok. I've done it. I've finished a homily for Samantha Trosts' Memorial Service tomorrow morning. (Their pastor, Heidi Moore, will be the liturgist and one of the musicians, playing her guitar.)

It took me three days to write the homily. (In the Bible, of course, the number "three" indicates that God is doing something special. I pray that the Spirit is working through me.)

It took a day for me to confront my own grief and and sadness and anger over the death of this irreplaceable 20-year old. It took time for me to overcome my own faithlessness, to think of some words I might say. It took me time to overcome my immaturity.

(Idon'twanttodothisIdon'twanttodothisIdon'twanttodothisIdon'twanttodothis).

I came up with some words yesterday that I might say. And then I completely re-wrote them. I re-wrote them again this morning, and then wrote some more. But I still didn't know how the homily would conclude. So I went outside to rake leaves, and to pray, to offer the whole thing up to God who is Holy Spirit. And after an hour or so, an ending came to me.

We'll see if the words are any good tomorrow.