Third Sunday of Lent: crossing over

Michael row the boat ashore, hallelujah,
Michael row the boat ashore, hallelujah.
My brothers and sisters are all aboard, hallelujah,
My brothers and sisters are all aboard, hallelujah.

Michael row the boat ashore, hallelujah,
Michael row the boat ashore, hallelujah.
The river is deep and the river is wide, hallelujah,
Milk and honey on the other side, hallelujah.

Michael row the boat ashore, hallelujah,
Michael row the boat ashore, hallelujah.
Jordan's river is chilly and cold, hallelujah,
Chills the body but not the soul, hallelujah.

Michael row the boat ashore, hallelujah,
Michael row the boat ashore, hallelujah.
--Traditional

One of my aunts passed away this past Monday. On the internet, you can find she buried an infant daughter in Mahaddei, Somalia, in January of 1958. And that she lost a sister in 1987. And that a Somali "Muslim Mennonite Sufi" living and teaching in Montreal dedicated a poem to her.

She spent most of her life within a one-mile radius of the house where she was born and raised. Her family settled next door to my grandparents when they returned from Africa. The church was half a mile or so away. She made a home for her husband and six children. She looked in on, and cared for my grandmother, until she passed away. She served the church for many years as member and minister's wife. She had a ready smile, a steady faith, a strong will, a great deal of energy, and a huge garden. She fed many people. Like my grandmother, she was interested in people, especially relatives. She noticed and took pleasure in the simple, daily joys of life, the sign of a grateful heart. In her later years, she spent a great deal of time taking care of grandchildren.

I cannot sum up a person in a blog post. I wish I had been able to see her more often.

Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints. Psalm 116:15.