As I sat in the funeral home the other day, I experienced a severe case of “déjà vu.”

(And I’m not talking about the legendary “gentleman’s club.”)

I realized I had been spending a lot of time in funeral homes lately.

Maybe it’s because I’m in my 40s (hence, the “clever” name of this column), and many people I know are passing away.

I never considered people in their 40s as “old,“ but recently, family members, friends, people I went to school with, worked with, have died

Died.

I shudder to even think of that word.

It seems so harsh, so final.

I wonder when my time will come.

Will it be soon?

Will I accomplish anything before I go?

Why am I still here, anyway?

What is my purpose?

Do I have one?

I think everyone considers their mortality at some point and time.

While sitting in the funeral home, I felt as if I was literally flipping end over end.

I felt as if the walls were closing in, and the ceiling and floor were about to meet.

There’s so much going on in my life right now.

I feel major changes are underway.

I am confused, uncertain, scared, excited, curious, fascinated, I feel everything, and I feel nothing.

It is frightening how I experience waves of sorrow pouring over me and complete detachment.

There have been moments when my heart leaps up with joy, and moments when my souls burns with bitter, seething rage.

 I seek solace.

Not in a bottle, not with a handful of pills, not in some nefarious activity.

I talk to God.

I used to put my “faith” in people and things, so I’m surprised He even listens to me.

Do I always get answers?

No, especially not when I want then, or how I want them.

I’m OK with that because He knows what’s best for me.

He’s never given up on me-even though I gave up on myself long ago.

You see, I made this correlation the other day at the funeral home.

I started wondering about the song “Amazing Grace” as it was being played.

Never really thought about it before-I just took it at face value.

I kinda had the “grace” part figured out because I do believe His grace is “sufficient” as we often hear.

His grace is all we need, and that’s true.

The “amazing” part, though…no clue.

Until…

It’s just my own, personal take on it, but I realized it is truly “amazing” how He saves us, heals us, loves, us.

There have been times in my life that I’ve suffered “hurts” from which I never thought I’d recover.

At those times, I didn’t know Him, and didn’t know it was Him who pulled me through.

People would say they were praying for me, and I’d think, “Oh, that’s nice.”

Little did I know.

I would rather have someone pray for me than give me a million dollars.

I mean that.

(But I’m sure the bill collectors would rather have money instead of prayers.)

That’s just the most awesome thing you can do for someone-pray for them.

I saw a lot of people praying in the funeral home.

Praying for strength, praying for help in coping with the loss of a loved, praying for the future and what it may hold.

I saw tears flow down cheeks, hands being held, a thoughtful touch on a shoulder.

I realized…I needed to get over it.

Oh, whoa is me, and my so-called terrible life.

I could sit here all day and feel sorry for myself.

I felt “isolated” because I put myself out there.

Reading back over this, you could probably take a lot of the “I’s” out and substitute your own name.

Who am I to think I am the only person who has problems?

Although the death of  loved is a sad occasion, I was blessed to witness one of the most awe-inspiring things I could ever experience.

Everyone was helping one another get through it.

This…THIS was what God’s love is all about.

I remembered a line from a song I used to hear-”The God of the good times, is still God in the bad times.”

How true.

He never changes, we do.

And it’s not always for the best.

I somehow missed what everyone else in that funeral home was perfectly aware of.

When you need to know someone is there, and they care, when you need a little help, seek it.

Seek Him.

And everything will be alright.

A note from Wade’s wife and family:

We love you and will miss you, Greg “Clyde” Stephens.