Eulogy For My Beloved Rachael

September 17^th, 1979 - March 30^th, 2002

 

If you are gathered in this room today you have most likely been called a friend, you have been loved, and most likely you have loved in return our dear, sweet Rachael.

 

I wonder, standing here, how each of you came to know Rachael? I wonder how she came into your life? I would dearly love to hear your stories.

 

I wonder, did you meet her at church? Did you see her devotion to her Lord as she bowed her head and silently worshipped?

 

Or perhaps she befriended you at school, gently coming along side you when you needed a friend?

 

Did you know her as a child, all spunk and pep and fire, wrapped around a loving faithful heart?

 

I wonder if you got a card in the mail from the girl you thought you hardly knew, or the sister who wanted to make sure you were doing okay.

 

Did your children fall in love with Murs youngest daughter, and when you met her you couldn’t help but fall in love too?

 

Are you a relative who watched a beautiful little girl grow so quickly into a delightful young woman, wise beyond her years?

 

Did you meet her at camp, constantly the delight of the children surrounded by smiling faces and giggles?

 

Maybe you bunked with her, and spoke late into the night, well past curfew about all the things young girls talk about, and about her faith?

 

Did you know her from work, and wonder how it was that she could bring the sunshine inside with her in the morning, smiling and taking joy in things that seemed so mundane?

 

Perhaps you were on the fringe, and she drew you in with smiles and laughter and earnest talk of the things that are most important in life.

 

I wonder how she touched you life?

 

Did you laugh with her?

 

Cry with her?

 

Did you feel her sorrow and share in her joy?

 

Did you go to bed at night knowing that she was thinking of you and praying for you?

 

Did you fall asleep with tears in your eyes knowing that she suffered?

 

Were you there when her mother brought her home, waiting anxiously to see the newest member of your family?

 

Were you there to delight in her first steps, or hear her first words, or share in her first tears of heartache?

 

Did you take her to school, holding her hand to walk bravely to her first class?

 

Were you there from the beginning, did you give her birth, and listen to her first cries through tears of your own?

 

Did you hold her hand as she entered this world and did you whisper your love as she quietly left it?

 

My friends, if you have done, if you have witnessed any of these things then count yourself blessed. For it was an uncommon rare and wonderful thing.

 

Open your hearts, and let your tears flow. Mourn with those who mourn, for we will not see Rachael again this side of Glory.

 

The bible says that “A good name is sweeter than fine perfume”. Rachaels name means “Gift of God” or “Little Lamb”. Rachael was, and remains, both.

 

I have never met someone like Rachael.

 

I have never met a girl who wanted so much to be herself, yet tried so hard to do what pleased others.

 

I have never met a girl so open, who said what she felt with honesty and graciousness, who refused to criticize the weak and who approached friendship without guile.

 

I have not met a girl so committed and faithful to her family. At once so close to her Mother a best friend to her Sisters, and the delight of her Father.

 

I have never met one who learned to discern while so young what was important from what was frivolous. Who saw through the eyes of her own suffering how to pity those who suffered less.

 

I have not met a girl who sought after the Lord and his service so diligently from such a young age.

 

I have never met someone who suffered so much without complaint or bitterness, taking joy in the blessings and triumphs of others, when she could never have her own.

 

I have never met someone with such a way with children.

 

I have never met someone who could so easily draw out my heart, to make me smile or laugh or cry. Someone who I could spend the whole day just talking to.

 

I have never met someone more ticklish than Rachael.

 

I have never met someone who could make the most reluctant feel right at home, like they belonged and like they had a friend.

 

I have not met a girl who was so much fun.

 

I have never met someone who could put so much love into a smile, or a wink, or a hug, or a kiss.

 

In my life I have only met one other person like Rachael. He was her best friend. He was there when she entered the world.

 

He knew every step she took, and every beautiful hair on her beautiful head.

 

He was there when she breathed her last.

 

He is the Lord Jesus, the source of her strength, the source of her love, and the delight of her heart, and he has called her home.

 

Rachael left this place in the presence of her loved ones. Holding their hands and hearing their voices, loving them and knowing that she was dearly loved.

 

For almost two years, to the ire of anyone trying to call the Ayling residence, I spoke with Rachael every night. I was privileged to see her day through her eyes, to have walked with her in mind and spirit through her day.

 

When Rachael passed out of time and into eternity I longed to see through her eyes, to know where she was and what she was doing and how she felt. I prayed that the Lord would help me to understand where she was, that he would comfort me in knowing that though we could shelter her no longer she was sheltered by his hand instead.

 

The Lord answered my prayer, and led me to the Song of Solomon, called the Song of Songs. As I read that night I could almost hear Rachaels voice, she says:

 

“Listen! My Lover! Look! Here he comes leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills. My lover is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice.

 

My lover spoke, and said to me, “Arise my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See, the winter is past and the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.

 

Arise, come my darling my beautiful one, come with me, my dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside. Show me your face and let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely””

 

Rachael, among the myriad and myriad of angels in joyful assembly, among the spirits of those called and washed in the blood of the lamb, has found her rest and her home and her place at the Saviors feet.

 

 

 

James Swanson

April 2^nd, 2002