Rest in peace, and rise in glory.

I went to a funeral last night. It wasn't anyone I knew-- a gentleman from church died after a long illness, and my rector asked me to be part of the alter party.

I don't handle funerals (or even movies where someone dies) nearly as well now that I'm married. Inevitably, I begin to think of something happening to Mr. M. He's in reasonably good health, eats well, and I think it's safe to say that he'll be making admirable attempts to keep up with me for the next 50 years. All the same, my life tends to go sideways for a short while when I imagine what it would be like if he wasn't here.

I told a Catholic friend recently that I am headed towards priesthood (this is relevant, I promise). Her response was, "how on earth can anyone be a priest with a spouse and family?!" My (inward) response was, "How on earth could I do this without Mr. M?!"

One of the things that I think about after funerals is that, without my husband looking after me, I have no idea how I'd be able to go out and try to look after others. Without him making sure I get fed and rested, I'm not sure where I'd find the energy. And what would I do if he wasn't there to keep me from throwing rocks at a certain prominant Quaker's head?

I certainly couldn't marry someone else and stay on this path of ministry. Sometimes, in the process of discernment, one of the loudest ways I hear God's call is in God's provision of Mr. M.