Take Me To Post Comment Form MINISTERIAL M-UU-SINGS
Rev. Jane Page
Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Statesboro

Diva was a mixed breed puppy that my family adopted from one of our church members when it became clear that she was just not going to make it as an "inside" dog. We brought her out to our place last May so she could run and jump and play. And that she did. She chased squirrels and rabbits and dug holes for moles. She swam in the pond and played with the children. Plus she also ate a bunch – growing quickly to be bigger and stronger than our other two dogs.

Diva came to us with that name. It fit her well. She did her own thing and expected us to modify our behavior to hers. Greg and the children attempted to train her to follow our directions with lots of reinforcing and scolding. But she wasn’t having any of it. For that reason, I should have known better. In fact, I had seen how she acted when she was near the road – paying no attention to cars. So I should have known better. But yesterday afternoon, I let her go with me to the mailbox. I told her to “stay before I crossed the road to no avail. She went right along with me. But I’m always careful to wait and cross when there are absolutely no cars coming. I got the mail, looked to see that there was no traffic and started back across. When I reached the other side, I realized that Diva had not crossed back with me and was instead busily chewing on a cardboard french fries carton than someone had tossed out. A car was coming. Surely she would see it and not try to cross. I should have known better.

And just like that, I watched a dog so very full of life, quiver for a brief moment, then die. I heard my name and looked up to see one of our church goers get out of the car that hit her. He was saying how sorry he was. Of course I told him that it was not his fault. I told him that I should have put her in the pen before I came. I should have at least made sure she was with me when I crossed. I should have known better. And that dear member, although needing to get to class, took time to swap roles with me and become my pastor. He helped me move her off the road and comforted me.

Then I went home to change clothes and came back in the golf cart to get her. A neighbor had pulled into the drive – a good Samaritan who saw a need on the side of the road and stopped to help. She helped me lift Diva into the cart and gave me a hug. She’s a dog lover and I hated for her to see what had happened to Diva.

I have a place in the woods behind my house that we’ve used as a little cemetery for our pets and for pets of some of our parishioners. So with the rain coming down lightly, I dug Diva’s grave, put her in it, said my good-byes and regrets and covered her up, adding a large stone from the labyrinth and lots of little ones as well.

I sang that song in our hymnal that is so familiar to our congregation.

Spirit of Life
Come unto me.
Sing in my heart all the stirrings of compassion.
Blow in the wind, rise in the sea;
Move in the hand, giving life the shape of justice.
Roots hold me close; wings set me free;
Spirit of Life, come to me, come to me.

Why was I singing a song calling to the Spirit of Life at a time acknowledging death? Perhaps to acknowledge the life that had been; perhaps as a prayer to comfort me as I continued to feel guilt and sorrow; perhaps because death points us to that very Spirit of Life. Forest Church defines religion as "our human response to the dual reality of being alive and having to die." I have no worries about my own death. I don’t focus on death. I focus on life. I tell folks that I’m a Unitarian Universalist because I believe in life before death! And yet, at times like these, I have to acknowledge that death will come to all my family members and loved ones, to all my church members and friends, to the lone white crane who shares the pond with me, and, yes, to me.

The song helped to lift the guilt and sorrow and gave me another perspective. Diva’s life was short. But Diva lived her life fully. None of us know how long we will live. But I DO know better than to take this precious life for granted. I’m trying to take care of myself so that I can live a long and meaningful life. But friends, if I die tomorrow, you can say, "She lived her life fully." Oh, may it be so for us all.