|Smoke from the cremation - we often see it passing the wat|
Our entire family attended the cremation at our wat the next morning. Many villagers came. I found the American culture in me offended by the way the family was mostly ignored. The father sat to one side, the mother organized everyone else and wept behind her krama. No one seemed to offer comfort to the family members. Indeed, what comfort could they offer?
I stood to the side with tears streaming down my face in a very American way. Though Chris saw the boy when they opened the coffin, I had been too far away (as we had agreed upon - we did not want the children to see the cremation). Then they put him in the fire and the crowd dispersed, his family alone sat with a few monks and sticks of incense.
I write this post with a saddened heart, but one that believes God works all things together for good. This incident has opened my eyes to many things in my heart: a prayer that God would perform a miracle and raise the boy to life then a prayer for my presumptuousness, wondering if the death was a blessing because there would be more food in the home then chastising myself knowing I would rather starve than see a one of my children suffer and die as this child had, and finally begging the Lord for mercy on this 12-year-old and hoping he was not yet at the age of accountability all the while wondering why I made such a request to the God who loved this child more than anyone.
What will God do with this situation? I have no idea, but I trust Him. I will be looking for His hand in the days to come!