Tomorrow I will perform my third funeral in a month. A fourth was celebrated by a one-time member of my church by a close friend in a neighboring church where she had moved her letter several years ago. On the news this morning the death-toll in Haiti is expected to go well into the hundreds of thousands, hundreds more have died in Peru, the middle east, and who-knows-where-else.
Tonight the man whose father I will bury tomorrow called me. His little dog had three pups, her first litter. I get one of them.
Life in the midst of death. Life even from death. If it weren't for that hope life would indeed be absurd and meaningless for me. No wonder we always eat a lot at funerals!