a letter of apology and thanks to the dead person whose funeral really annoyed me

I stopped by the church late yesterday morning out of necessity. People, weariness does not even adequately describe the state of my soul. And February in New England is no help. I pulled into the parking lot to find that there was a funeral. And was annoyed. By a dead person. It is like God wants me to stay away in times of despair. Like He enjoys keeping me in the dark. Which I know He doesn't really. But I am a bratty Catholic girl in moments of hunger and exhaustion and "what the heck even is my life Lord?" situations. I ran into the religious education office instead to make photo copies because I like to pretend that the religious education office is MY office, and ended up spilling my guts all over that office to two beautiful women, who bless their hearts, patiently listened to what I had intended to bring to God, but you know, that dead person prevented me from doing so. And guess what? I left that office about 500 pounds lighter. Not because problems were resolved but because I had Sisters in Christ who knew how to listen and comfort and pray. Who knew to say "me too" and "so sorry" and give me a hug and just enough strength to tackle the next hour. Who knew how to shine just enough light so that I could see one more step before me. And if it weren't for that dead person I would have missed this opportunity. I would have missed this grace. I would have missed the lantern that God was holding out just waiting for me to stop complaining and crying for one hot second and grab hold of it. And so I pray for that sweet soul this morning and say sorry for being annoyed by his or her death in my moment of need, and thank you for the divine intervention that brought me into communion and human contact that was so clearly needed. And now I wonder if this person once alive and now gone and the loved ones mourning that life have any idea of God's almighty power, of the amazement and gift of eternal life, and that while no longer on this wounded earth, the one that they grieve is dead is so very much still alive. Doing heavenly good work. Leading the lost to the light. Is truly not gone and quite possibly ever more present. Is saving lives. At least mine, if only for an hour. But sometimes it is that one hour that makes all the difference.