"Where, O death, Is your Sting?"

Ken and I made a trip to Custer, South Dakota, for a funeral this weekend. It was a fairly hard trip physically—we left as soon as we could on Friday (not until noon, later than we’d hoped), traveled through rain, and didn't arrive until almost 10:00 PM. We left early Sunday morning, did a bit of sightseeing on the way, decided we couldn't handle another night in a strange bed, and arrived home about 9:30 PM last night.

So all day I’ve struggled off and on: should I write about the trip—we did drive the Needles Highway, took a sidetrip through the Badlands, saw wildlife, viewed South Dakota's state capital building, and drove through Hubert Humphrey's home town. Or should I write about the funeral—a huge topic because it involved people I care about. The man who died was a cousin’s husband. She is just a few years older than I am, not really an older sister but someone important to me.

I’ve hesitated only because I don’t want to violate her or her family’s privacy. And yet, this funeral was one of the most beautiful I’ve seen, an event in need of focus and comment. And for that reason, I'm going ahead.

They married young—she just out of nurse’s training, living in Minneapolis, and he just out of the military where he'd finished duty in St. Paul. He from the southeast and a culture different than that of rural Minnesota. She, off the farm, trained to be a supportive wife. He had opinions while she’d learned the Norwegian art of reserve.

She was important to me as a kid and, later, as a young adult. After they were married, Ken and I were engaged and attending school in Minneapolis. Because my mother had died earlier, my cousin more or less schooled me about things I need to know. I spent time with them. But then they moved and we moved. They had children and we had children. They were busy and we were busy. And so, our relationships became a sporadic, long-distance relationships.

Somewhere along the line, God entered the picture and I needed my older cousin for support. Although I didn’t know exactly where she was spiritually, I felt I could share my experience with her. And she understood! She received my testimony with joy even though my spiritual walk was a bit different than hers.

Where was her husband in all this? I occasionally wondered, but he wasn't someone I could confront. Two years ago I wanted to visit them so we worked it into another family trip by spending a couple of nights in their Black Hills cabin-home. Although I didn’t quiz him on the subject, and although I can’t offer a concrete reason why, I came away knowing he walked with God.

In his search to live rightly, he turned to God and was greatly altered. God had produced fruit in his life. I wanted to emulate his total transparency.

With the help of hospice, she took care of him at home. One day he told her with a sense of wonder, I can plan my funeral. So he did. For music he selected Beautiful Savior; Come Ye Disconsolate; Blessed Assurance; Precious Lord, Take My Hand; and Amazing Grace. Just before the close of the service, one of his grandsons sang the Irish Blessing.

At the end, he held on until a sister could make a final visit. His children gathered to say good-bye and share their love. He had no pain.

In a gathering in the reception hall of the church after the funeral, the children shared stories that revealed their dad’s changes through the years. We laughed and my cousin was beautiful in her joy over God’s dealings and provision—and in her loss. Because the loss is real.

When extended family gathered in the home later, she told me that during a lengthy stay in a motel when he received out-patient treatment for his specific cancer, they experienced tender unity. One night she said to him, This has actually been a sweet time.

He said, It's been like a second honeymoon.

I felt they gave everyone who knew them a testimony of how to live in the face of death. We can’t plan to experience no pain. That was a unique blessing. But the Holy Spirit blessed them with great faith in the love of Jesus. As my cousin also said, Death is the final and ultimate healing. What more can we ask.

I don't want to close without giving thanks to those who told me they prayed for us. Although tired, we made it without incident. Also, on Saturday, the day of the funeral, I felt God helped me and blessed me at key times. So thanks.


When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: Death has been swallowed up in victory. "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" (I Cor. 15:54-55 NIV)