As I write this the funeral bell is tolling in Swavesey. On our way in to drop G off at work we saw the hearse, which had transferred the coffin to a beautiful old funeral carriage or wagon, all in black with black horses and glass sides. On my way back, there was a traffic backup going through Swavesey- the cemetery is on the other side of our little village, with the chrch being on the very far end of the village. When I finally made it home the bell began to toll, and because of the backup there was no traffic or noise coming from the High Street. The bell has been tolling for at least 5 minutes now- perhaps it tolls for the entire service. It has put new meaning to me to Hemingway’s phrase “for whom the bell tolls” because I never realized there was an actual bell that tolls for a funeral- that doesn’t happen in the US, at least I’ve never heard it happen. Everyone in town can hear the bell, and likely many local people know about the death. What an interesting tradition- the sound of the bell reminds us all that our lives must someday end, and challenges us to consider the age old question of what will happen to us when we die. It gives everyone an opportunity to consider Gd, and to think about their own faith, whatever it may or may not be. Today I stopped at the doorway to our cottage and said a pr for the family who is grieving, and I thanked Gd for my life and took a little time to remember my blessings. And to remember that though I am young, I can’t predict the day or the hour of my own death.
The bell has stopped now, and I can hear a few cars on their busy way through Swavesey. Although you can’t hear the bell yourselves, I hope you’ll take some time to think about your own life and be grateful for the time you’ve had, and for the blessings that you have received.
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