I just got back from a funeral.

Death stinks.

Thankfully, for “Uncle Ick” (as my children have always referred to him) death means the ushering in of eternal life, freedom from pain and discarding the cane he has had to walk with for two decades due to a debilitating injury.

But for those of us left behind…the fact remains, death stinks.

Looking into the eyes of his wife of 29 years, (my hubby’s sister) and seeing pain, loss, confusion and real sadness left me with a deep longing for her pain to subside. But I know grieving is a process and fully feeling loss is part of that process.

The brightest spot of the days of togetherness and mourning came in the form of a sweet seven year old family member. It was my daughter who pointed out to me the special influence she was having on people at the funeral and those that gathered before and after.

She seemed to be inexplicably drawn to those who were in a moment of intense grief, like a moth to flame. She would silently appear by their side, wrap her small arms around the mourning soul and offer a soft lingering hug. After a few silent moments of compassion she would softly slip away – drawn to a new flickering flame that was struggling with the angst of grief.

It was a beautiful picture of God’s pursuit of man and His desire to shower them with compassion and love – especially when they are hurting. It was as if we each felt Gods loving embrace of comfort through the tiny frail arms of a sweet little girl.

It was also a picture of how He desires to use us in the lives of others. If only we could all offer His love so freely to those around us who are hurting.