The Thread-Bound Journal
Perhaps Each of Us Keeps Such a Journal In the Back of Our Minds and Hearts
An elderly man, named Lumen Star, passed away at age 94. Lumen had been a widower for ten years. He and Prudence, his sweetheart of 60 years, had never had children. And as Lumen and Prudence were both only children with no close relatives, there was no next of kin. However, Lumen had been certain to make all of the final arrangements with the local funeral home. Always a simple and humble man, Lumen had chosen a simple wooden casket that would be buried in the small plot next to his wife. At the funeral director’s insistence, a public viewing would be offered with a brief service led by a local minister to follow.
But when the minister, Reverend Hope, showed up on the day of service to find a room filled only with the funeral director, Mr. Tranquil, and two of his assistants, he found the ever wise and bright Lumen had a different idea in mind.
“So, according to Lumen’s final wishes, he asked only for a few moments of silence.” The funeral director offered direction. “Then, Lumen directed a small part of his estate to cover the publishing costs for this.” Mr. Tranquil held up a medium-thick thread-bound journal.
“Oh, uh, what’s in there?” Reverend Hope asked.
“Well,” Mr. Tranquil’s eyes widened and his hands shook a little as he opened up the book to a random page, “this is the deceased’s written account of all the people he could remember interacting with in his 94 years. It includes his parents, siblings, and extended family. He recounts memories with each teacher, mentor, friend, and confidante he could name as a child and then goes into detail about connections with each family member, relative, friend, associate, acquaintance, and stranger as an adult.”
“Oh. . .my” Reverend Hope placed his hand on the front of the volume. “What an awesome and inspiring life’s work.” Mr Tranquil then showed the minister just one random page dedicated to several community members back home Lumen had interacted with over 50 years before.
“He wrote in his final order that he started this at age 18. It started just to jot down an amazing conversation he had with a dear friend. Then it took off from there.”
Reverend Hope took the volume from Mr. Tranquil and ran his finger down an open page. This page referenced some memories Lumen had of one elementary teacher who had noticed his inattention to studies was actually due to his advanced ability in math, reading, and writing. She’d nurtured his love for numbers and words with additional assignments and extra lessons. He credited her for his success as an accountant and later magazine editor. There was a brief note that Lumen had only heard about his teacher’s passing a few years later due to her having traveled up north to retirement. Lumen had made a donation to a local school organization in her memory.
Reverend Hope shook his head in silent awe. “Did anyone else know about this?” He skipped ahead to later pages where Lumen had listed names of many community members, friends, or strangers he had helped after retirement — including some he’d given money to, had helped to find a new job, or had taken in to help get a fresh start in life.
“Apparently he shared it with his wife and some close friends, but he has kept to himself since he and Prudence moved here fifteen years ago from out East. And then she passed away ten years ago.”
“Wow, I don’t know what else to say.” Reverend Hope shook his head and closed the volume. “There must be thousands of names in here.” He handed the volume back to Mr. Tranquil who again flipped to a random page.
“Do you know of any religious publishers who would want to print as many copies of this as they can with the proceeds Lumen left?” Mr. Tranquil also spoke in a broken tone. “Otherwise, I could take it down to the paper for them to print with their publisher.”
“You know, I have some money in the church’s account for special community projects. I could have about 1,000 of these printed just from that to pass around the church and community for a testament to faith and unity.”
“And with the proceeds from Lumen, I could have several thousand copies printed with the paper to distribute around town and back East where Lumen lived before.”
“This is such a miracle,” Reverend Hope smiled with sparkles come from his eyes. “Here you and I offer services and prayers for the deceased so many can come pay them reverence as they depart this world. And Lumen took the time to record every interaction he had with each person he could remember throughout his life.”
“Wow,” Mr. Tranquil was started to tear up now. “This just goes to show how in each of our lives we encounter thousands of others.”
“Yes,” Reverend Hope concurred, “and so many countless of those thousands pay utmost reverence to us each day, and we in turn pay utmost reverence to countless as well. What a wondrous miracle indeed each of our lives is, grounded in infinite, sacred mystery and love.”
