ONE

I was at the funeral of my dearest friend-my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense; I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held the box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my father’s death, and prayed for me my entire life.
When mother’s illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me the 27-year-old middle child, to take care of her. I counted it an honor. My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, taking her to the doctor, reading the Bible together. Now she was in heaven. My work was finished, but I was alone.
Deep in sorrow, suddenly, I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. A young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes started to be filled with tears.
“I’m late”, he explained, though no explanation was necessary.
After severe eulogies, he leaned over and commented, “Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of Margaret?”
“Because, that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary.” I whispered, wondering who the stranger was anyway.
“Isn’t this the Lutheran church?”
“No, the Lutheran church is across the street.”
“I believe you’re at the wrong funeral, Sir.”
The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man’s mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter: Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more stupid. I peeked at the confused, misguided man seated beside me. He was laughing too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing.
At the final “Amen”, we rushed out a door and into the parking lot. “I do believe we’ll be the talk of the town. By the way, my name is Rick.” He smiled.
That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church. This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time.
In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June, we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met Rick tells them, her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it’s truly a match made in heaven.