SLEEVES

Beneath ominous clouds, Joey navigated the dreaded twelve miles of Atlanta’s
teeming traffic leading to the Woodard Funeral Home. Four grueling days had gone by
since her passing. Joey’s mind spun in every direction. Despite his participation in a
great many funerals, he had never actually planned one from start to finish. And even
worse, he had never presided over one this close to the core of his heart. Of late, his
waking hours were spent in a daze from all the intricate details, leaving little time and
energy for personal reflection. Before he knew it, the day of her service had come
without even a minute to pause amidst the frenzy to grieve.

Upon Joey’s arrival, he sat in his car for a few moments to clear his head and
measure the vastness of the day before him. Lord, this is more of a task than should ever
be asked of a man. No sooner had he slid from his seat, Donnie Fisher welcomed him
with a friend’s hug and an empathetic smile. Donnie was in his sixteenth year as funeral
home director, and although he was no kin to the Woodard family, he was revered in
the community as no less. By virtue of his longstanding stint at the facility, he and Joey
had developed a close comradery over the years. Neither could begin to count the times
they had partnered on this very site for a soul’s last honors. But never after the likes of
this one. Both men stood and cried, neither able to summon an utterance requisite for
the somber hour.

Upon their entrance, Donnie quietly escorted Joey down the long hallway
leading to the family chamber. At Joey’s request, the area was kept clear of everyone
that he might finally gather his thoughts for her eulogy. The surroundings were familiar.
The room smelled of its normal lavender, and the carpet displayed its usual ensemble of
mauve petals overlayed with olive-colored fronds. In days gone by, Joey appreciated the
well-refined ambience, but the open casket against the wall was enough to lay waste to
the most charming atmospheres. He could only think of the numerous times over the
years he occupied this exact space as the minister comforting the mourner. This was his
first time filling both roles. And miserably so, it seemed.

Close by her side, Joey hung his head and mined the depths of his indescribable
loss. His emotions ran rampant, from staring numbly to weeping uncontrollably. He
buried his face in his hands all the while mindfully rummaging through his repertoire of
clichés in search of the perfect expression for the day’s demands. As he expected, not
one matched this woeful occasion. He had never felt more inadequate. From the stifling
air, he managed a deep breath and reminded himself of the countless times God
dropped just the right words onto his tongue; countless being no exaggeration. Joey’s
ongoing and widespread impact over the past three decades could not be overstated.
Thousands recognized his name as one synonymous with the rescuing and the
rebuilding of fractured lives. Year after year, he bounced coast-to-coast as a prominent
inspirational speaker to the hopeless and hurting. His exceptional command of Scripture
and his captivating charisma had awarded him national stage recognition of the highest
order. As far back as he could remember, few blocks on his itinerant calendar were
without designation. The mere thoughts of his success humbled him. In the quietness of
the room, he whispered to himself, “God brought me out of a dark place, and never
once has He failed me.”

A clap of thunder suddenly shook the roof of the funeral home. At its jolt, Joey
jumped from his chair and made his way to the nearby window. Beyond the glass, a
radiant streak of lightning flashed across the dark sky while sheets of rain beat violently
against the building. Joey didn’t miss the irony. He muttered to himself, “Could a
northern Georgia thunderstorm be more fitting?” No doubt, the fierce howl of the wind
and the relentless cloudburst perfectly mirrored his sorrow. However, as Joey stared
through the downpour, he realized the storm was not without a guiding purpose. Far in
the distance, towering trees swayed at every gust of the swirling gale, bowing to their
limits but refusing to break. Joey strained a smile toward heaven: I hear you, Lord. He
prayed that he would bend with the same grace and resilience.