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  BEREAVED PARENTS OF THE USA Sunday, December 5, 2004 3 p.m. St. Martins-in-the-Field Episcopal Church Severna Park, Maryland   


   We wish to thank St. Martins-in-the-Field for hosting this Service of Remembrance. We also wish to thank the talented This program was created lovingly by Terre Belt in memory of her daughter Cortney and her niece Traci, and by Mary Memminger in memory of her brother Jack Matthew Memminger. Program design by Randy Cook. Fly, fly little wing The softest cloud, the whitest dove Upon the wind of heavenÕs love  







 
 
 
   


   The pain of losing a child is intense. It reminds us of the depth of our love for them. The lighting of the second candle represents courage Ð to comfort our sorrow, to comfort each other, and to change our lives. The lighting of the third candle is in our childÕs memory Ð the times we laughed, the times we cried, the times we were angry with each other, the silly things they did and the caring and joy The lighting of the fourth candle is the light of love. We light this candle that their light will always shine. As we share this day of remem- reserved for our children. We thank you for the gift your living brought to each of us. We love you. WE REMEMBER THEM (From Gates of Prayer, Reform Jewish Prayerbook) In the rising of the sun and its going down, We remember them. winter, We remember them. In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of We remember them. In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer, We remember them. In the rustling of leaves and in the beauty of We remember them. In the beginning of the year and when it ends, We remember them. When we are weary and in need of strength, We remember them. We remember them. We remember them. So long as ye live, they, too, shall live, for they are now a part of us, Your memoryÕs so clear. YouÕre still an inspiration. Can it be that you are my forever love, And you are watching over me from up above? star. A breath awayÕs not far to where you are. And isnÕt faith believing All power canÕt be seen? Just one beat away, I cherish all you gave me everyday. up above. And I believe that angels breathe star. A breath awayÕs not far to where you are. A breath awayÕs not far to where you are. (By Laura J/Heavenly Lights ChildrenÕs Memorial) To Grandma and GrandpaÕs house we go. Oh, if only it were that simple now, Rocking in the rocking chair, We remember how you would hold our hands With smiles upon our face. We remember reading stories From ÔGood Night MoonÕ To ÔGreen Eggs and Ham,Õ I remember you were my baking buddy, You would lick the batter from the bowl and It didnÕt matter if you caught fish or not. A VISITOR FROM HEAVEN (By Twila Paris, in memory of Wendy Hope) he time for concern is over. No longer are we asked how we are doing. Never are the names of our chil- dren mentioned to us. A curtain descends. The moment has passed. Lives slip from frequent recall. There are exceptions: close and compassionate friends, sensitive and loving family. For most, the drama is over. The spotlight is off. Applause is silent. But for us, the play will never end. The effect on us is timeless. Say their names to us. On the stage of our lives they have been both lead and supporting actors and actresses. Do not tiptoe around one of the greatest events of our lives. Love does not die. Their names are written on our lives. The sounds of their voices replay within our minds. You feel they are dead. We feel they are of the dead and still live. They ghostwalk our soul, beckoning in future welcome. You say they were our children. We say they are. Say their names to us and say their names again. It hurts to bury their memory in silence. What they were in flesh is no longer with us. What they are in spirits stirs within us always. They are of the past, but they are a part of our now. 
 
!  James ÒJamieÓ W.H. Cito Aran Nicholas Paul Liberatore (Adapted from Arlen-HarburgÕs ÒOver the RainbowÓ) Heaven opens a magic lane ThereÕs a rainbow highway to be found Leading from your window pane To a place behind the sun Just a step beyond the rain Way up high ThereÕs a land that I heard of And the dreams that you dared to dream Away above the chimney tops ThatÕs where youÕll find me Why then, oh why canÕt I? Why then, oh why canÕt I? NATIVE AMERICAN PRAYER I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, When you awaken in the morningÕs hush, BPUSA/ Anne Arundel County P.O. Box 6280 Annapolis, MD 21401 www.aacounty-md-bereavedparents.org