The Urn

Last week I wrote about preparing my will. Following the wisdom of a friend, this week I took the 'end of life' planing one step further. 

Since I have left instructions to be cremated, I went on the search for a burial urn. 

As a clergy person I have had the holy privilege to sit with many families as they journeyed through the valley of death. I sat with them as they made 'the arrangements.’ I witnessed loved ones make difficult decisions in the depths of grief, including the selection and cost of an urn. So it made perfect sense to take care of this detail. 

As one who presides at funerals, I have been honoured to rest my hands on earthly remains housed in a variety of urns and caskets to offer prayers of commendation with words such as:

“Into the freedom of the wind and the sunshine, 

—— we let you Spirit go.”

Into the dance of the stars and the planets

——we let your Spirit go.

Into the wind’s breath and the hands of the star maker,

—— we let your Spirit go.”

Ashes in tea pots, fishing tackle boxes, finely crafted wooden boxes, as well as commercial urns purchased at funeral homes. (Which brings up another question - Why do we call them ‘homes’? But that’s a blog for another day) 

A friend used one of her favourite vases purchased at Winners - complete with the sales sticker still on the bottom.

Following her example of good stewardship, off I went to Marshalls. After browsing the inventory, I found the perfect urn you see above. It reminds me of the biblical stories of the woman at the well and Mary Magdalene with her jar of costly perfume. 

Wandering the aisles with jar in hand, as Maritimers do, I chatted with a couple of other customers. 

One women pointed to the jar in my arms and said to her shopping companion, “Oh that’s lovely.” 

Then to me, she asked, “What are you going to put in it?” 

“Me” I replied. 

Silence. Puzzled looks. 

Again she asked, “No, what are you going to put IN it?”

“Me.” I replied. 

More silence. Awkward looks.

“It’s going to be my burial urn.” I explained. 

“Oh!” She replied. 

Then my new friend’s shopping companion noticed that there is no top on the jar and proclaimed, “But there is no top.” 

To which David quickly replied, “She won’t be getting out of there!” 

And we laughed all the way through the check out, into the parking lot and down the street. 

You can’t make this stuff up!

May the jar/urn sit on the shelf collecting dust for many years. Complete with the sales sticker. Discount $35.95.