Sailing to Columbarium
All became clear a couple of minutes after I took my place in a pew, when I heard the downstairs door open and voices echo up the stairwell.
I was seated on the Epistle side, my traditional seating at least since the early 60s (I don't remember seating preference too far beyond that). I was glad Gordon joined me there so that when we read the appointed Psalm antiphonally by side I wasn't reading alone.
A nice service, and great to have more of the men participating. No work party this time; it's cold, wet, and grey autumn (perfectly lovely for confirmed Pacific Northwesterners) and there's little to do (I think) other than clean up windfall, but there was little enough of that.
The Mens' Breakfast was interesting. Mens' Breakfast and Shrove Tuesday Master Chef Gordon worked his usual magic (though I still haven't seen those barbequed eggs). I forgot where the conversation began, but Matt soon noted he'd passed his sailing class -- and it turns out we have a bunch of variously-experienced sailors in the Mens' Group, yours truly included. (It seems my experience once of seeing my boat's centerboard rise out of the water, and descend back again without capsizing, remains very unique.)
Lots of chat about sailing... and soon enough, through twists and turns I can't recall, the topic turned to The Columbarium. I agree that it would be nice to have a Columbarium -- it would have been nice to have had one a few years ago when Fr. Leen passed away, but we didn't. To our surprise, in this county quite heavily beset by government regulations, we're already zoned for same. We just need a design and a location and funding.
Does it go outdoors? Would it be secure there? (The little statue of the B.V.M. in our garden, seen on our website, disappeared a few months ago.) Or should it be indoors somewhere? How do we set up the funding? A number of questions to be resolved.
And though it will matter nothing to me what happens to my body when my spirit is departed (I've signed the requisite organ donor cards -- hey, maybe somebody could take advantage of a slightly-used brain in fairly good condition?), there's an odd sort of comfort in thinking one's ashes would reside near one's church. (And if that doesn't happen, just bury these ashes alongside my New England in-laws' -- hey, I married into a good family. And I wish some of them were still around.)