Lubie was Loved

It is hard to find people to serve Mass on a weekday. Those devoted parishioners who help the priest in his celebration of the Mass on weekends are mostly working from Monday to Friday. Several of them make time for evening services, adoration, Novena Masses and the like, but most cannot be at St. Victor during a weekday.

My status as officially no longer part of the work force makes me available for morning or afternoon funerals, in addition to daily Mass, as one of the helpers at services.  It is, as often I may have said here, an honor, both material and spiritual, to be present as a soul is lovingly committed to the Hands of Our mutual Maker.  It might be a little odd indeed to say it, but I love funerals. More pointedly, I love the Catholic funeral service. In some ways, in the reflection of a life lived and now returned to the Creator, the experience is profoundly life giving, despite, maybe in a sense, because, of the loss.  In that service is the manifestation of the connection, a gossamer one at that, between here and the Source of our very being. Our presider, Monsignor Murphy, said something again I have heard him say before, that Lubie's loved ones can talk to her, sit in silent meditation and talk to her in our minds, because she is in a place with no barriers. When my own father died, he said that our dead family and friends can be intercessors with Our Lord, because after all, they are in Eternity close to Him.

Lubie was a long time parishioner of St. Victor, as I have been. But as too often is the case, I did not know her. In this case, I don't think I ever saw her, though I am not sure, because while I attend the 12:15 on Sundays, I heard that she attended the 5:30 on Saturday, or the 5:15 on Sundays. But we were fellow sojourners at the same lovely spiritually nourishing place and so, in that I think of her as a friend. 

What a blessing it seems to have known her!  The place was packed with her many relatives. They so clearly loved her. And she was no passive aunt. She was active in the lives of her nieces and nephews and a bevy of friends. She was from Croatia originally from that place where one day a new apparition of Our Lady would become famous, Medjugorjie.  But she had lived here in Los Angeles for many years. She was an animated person--the words used were personable and vivacious. Sounds like she said what she meant and meant what she said. You can tell all that from her photographs.

 

 

A light like that does not go out.

 

As the casket was led outside, candle bearers and cross at the fore, white doves were released. I have never seen that before except on television, and it did seem as if the Spirit were present and guiding Lubie to her next destination. 

 

I know.  Lots of folks reading this may well feel that this faith is so much blather. But as a character in one of my favorite movies, "The Keys of the Kingdom" (and book by AJ Cronin) says to his dying atheist friend who still cannot believe,  "Wouldn't it be nice, if by chance, we were to meet in heaven?"