Funeral Service for Wendy Ryan

Saturday, June 6, 2009

St. David’s Episcopal Church, DeWitt NY

The Rev. James C. Bresnahan, Interim Rector

 

I never met Wendy Ryan.  I did learn that in her youth Wendy was an active member of St. David’s Church. Her parents Matt and Isabel continue to be active members.  Because so many of you know so much about her, I will leave it Josh, Wendy’s son, and any others here who wish to speak to share remembrances of her. I’ll talk in a different vein.

 

But first, I want to thank all of you for being here today. You among her relatives, you her co-workers, you her friends, you who are members of St. David’s – thank you all for honoring Wendy by your presence today.

 

Josh said to me some days ago, Wendy did not believe in life after death and would not want you to speak about it in a sermon.  I’ll respect that, even though in the end our beliefs are just that - beliefs. There are always surprises.

 

I’ve chosen the readings from Scripture today quite purposefully.  For I see especially in today’s first reading a pattern or metaphor for the course of Wendy’s life.

 

Many of you will recognize that first reading as part of a larger story about the twelve tribes of ancient Israel. That larger story began with these tribes living in the land that is now Israel and living well. Life was good.

 

But in a series of successive years famine hit their land.  The tribes journeyed down to Egypt where there was food; they worked as laborers to support themselves. But after a time they became indentured servants, slaves of the Egyptians.  Life was harsh and painful.  They saw no way out.  Despair. But they heard in the midst of it all a beckoning voice. They listened and hope was instilled. Then, by an act of deliverance, the sea before them parted, they passed through the waters to escape, and moved onto dry land beyond the past. They continued on their new journey. The land they headed toward in freedom had changed.  New inhabitants.  They had to struggle, to work hard, act with determination. It was not easy on all of them.  But in the end they came to have a good life with great accomplishments, and the land they lived in bore much fruit and they prospered.

 

A pattern, as I see it, of Wendy’s life and how she came through some very difficult times early on to arrive at a better place, a beautiful place where she accomplished so much good over decades. Passing through the waters onto dry land, her gifts of intelligence, acquired wisdom, and determination led her to dedicate herself through nursing to the care of other people.

 

Her triumph is a time is testimony to the open-endedness of life, to the fresh possibilities that lie before us all, and to a power stronger than anything that contains us - a power heard in a voice that invites us to live more freely and hopefully, with greater clarity, with deeper purpose and determination, and with compassion. That power is spoken about in the psalm read today:

 

The floods have lifted up, O Lord,

   the floods have lifted up their voice;

   the floods lift up their roaring.

 

Yet more majestic than the thunders of mighty waters,

   more majestic than the waves of the sea,

   majestic on high is the Lord!

 

Wendy heard and responded to a voice louder than the roaring waves and her life became and remained a blessing to others throughout the years.

 

Your being here today witnesses to the impact her life has had – on friends, on students, on co-workers, as family. Josh will speak about that as he considers three different aspects or arenas of her life.

 

It is a tragedy that Wendy died so young, and robbed so many of wished for and needed time with her. Sad that all she still could do, wanted, or needed to do, at work, among friends, or with family has come to an end. It is sad in particular for some here who needed more time with her for what needed saying to be said. But conversations still can and need to go on in the mind and heart where relationships never end.

 

I guess no matter when one dies there is always unfinished business, unfinished conversations.  It remains for those left behind to deal with that unfinished business, for them too to listen to a voice that beckons them forward through the waters, to a freer life.

 

Our Gospel reading for today tells a story about a sea that suddenly turns stormy when a gale arise and life is threatened and death lies near.

 

But it speaks also of a peace that can come to us in the midst of the storm – a peace rooted not in closing our eyes to threats and dangers in life but in the recognition that there is a way to be sustained through it all, a way of maintaining hope, of not living in constant fear or panic, or only with sorrow or regret.  There is a voice to be heard that calls out.  Peace.  Be still.

 

In our grief we pray for that peace - peace within our minds and hearts; peace between ourselves and others; the deep peace that comes from living a life of faith, hope, and love. We pray for that peace in life for us; we for peace in death for Wendy; and we pray for the openness to listen for a voice that speaks to us and awakens us to surprise.

 

Now, I invite Josh, to come forward to speak less metaphorically and more directly and concretely about his mother, Wendy.