Rejoice!

Transformed

“All day I think about it, then at night I say it.

Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?

I have no idea.

My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,

and I intend to end up there.

I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.

Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.”

Rumi (translated by Coleman Barks)

I attended a memorial service for a friend of mine this week. Dottie Thompson was one of those regal old southern ladies, who was about as big as a minute and packed the punch of a full-grown male bison. She was a founding member of St. Steven's Episcopal Church, and also of Southern Progressive Alliance for Exploring Religion, aka SPAFER, a non-profit that brings progressive theologians to Alabama—in fact Diana Butler Bass was presenting here at the time of Dottie's death. Dottie was a woman who lived by her own lights and expected everyone else to do the same. She quietly went about the business of following Jesus. Her particular ministry was one of hospitality, though she wouldn't have thought of it as such—she just took people in. Children from Slagtown, a tapped out mining community near the church, squatters who lived in a school bus, wayfarers who happened into her neighborhood looking for work. She was fearless and hadn't a trace of grandiosity about all the things she did. In fact, I never heard her say a word about them.

Dottie had two big old shaggy dogs—Bilbo and Baggins—whom she adored. She deemed them incorrigible, which they were—runners who refused to be tamed or even house-trained. She did not want to put them off on her children, so she took them with her. On the stand with Dottie's urn of ashes were two white canisters with paw-prints on them. In the Memory Garden, all their ashes were spread together, just as she requested. About six weeks before her death, Dottie flew with her entire family out to San Francisco to attend her nephew's wedding—she was already on hospice, dragging oxygen tanks around and in constant pain, which she refused to acknowledge. In the photos from the wedding, Dottie, in lavender, was almost as beautiful as the bride.

At the memorial service, Dottie's grandchildren read her favorite wisdom quotes—the Rumi poem above being one of them. Another was from that wise and ancient Jedi master, Yoda: “Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the force.” I'm pretty sure the force is a good bit stronger today because one tough old, sprightly, beautiful soul and her bad-boy dogs have transformed. Go with God, Dottie!

                                                      In the Spirit,

                                                          Jane