Easter 2023

Greg Woodruff 2 • Apr 07, 2023

Last Writes

We all say goodbye differently

30 Nov, 2023
Goodbye

Water

By magnolia_admin • 01 Aug, 2019
Nothing really changes. Two thousand years ago, in the days following Christ’s crucifixion, a confused Simon Peter dealt with the darkness engulfing his life in the best way he knew how. He went fishing. He returned to the place where he met Jesus to begin with, and where he saw Him best. It was on the shore, mending his nets, where Peter first spoke to Christ; it was on the water where Christ proved he could meet Peter in a way he understood – catching fish. It was on the water that Peter witnessed power in the way most personal to him – on the sea, in a storm. He watched the sea still at Christ’s voice, stepped on waters he had fished for years, felt himself go under only to be saved by Jesus’ hand. And when He died, that’s where Peter returned – to waters he had seen stilled, where a storm had been silenced, hoping to silence the storm in himself. Once again returning to the sea as he was going under, hoping to be rescued.

Others

By magnolia_admin • 13 Dec, 2018
Most of you reading this are aware of the Southern custom regarding funeral processions: when a funeral procession comes by, if at all possible, oncoming traffic pulls to the side of the road as a gesture of respect. I’ve seen this done when it would be safer for all involved to forgo the practice for the moment, but on the whole it’s a beautiful acknowledgment of grief. It signifies our collective sorrow at a death, the community of humanity, and the need for others’ support. It speaks to our awareness of others, and our acknowledgment of their situation.

25 Years

By magnolia_admin • 11 May, 2018
This weekend Magnolia Funeral Home commemorates twenty-five years serving Corinth and the surrounding areas. This kind of business has no luxury of hope – when your loved ones come to us earthly hope is past. Our work holds no promise of healing – when we are with you true healing has already come. All of us live in the valley, in the shadow, but it’s been our privilege for the last twenty-five years to help light the path through it for you.

An Ode To Time

By magnolia_admin • 02 Oct, 2017
I walked in a home to carry the dead away. The owner’s dish from breakfast sat in his sink, unwashed. He ran out of time to take care of it. His books sat on his shelves. His clock ticked on, running. But his time came. The walls are lined with pictures – many of them old. Happy times – or times that pretended to be happy. Children. Parents. And neighbors waiting outside whisper to me “the kids won’t be here. They’re estranged.” So I look at the wall of pictures of people he doesn’t speak to. Whatever the grudge, the time for mending has passed. His pictures on the wall are just more things. Things he placed in his home so carefully – centering them on the wall and running a dust rag over the tops often enough to keep cobwebs away. They are still clear and clean. He has so many. But the things that matter, the things that aren’t things. They aren’t here.
Show More

Easter 2023

We come to Easter now in memory of a miracle.


But the women who went to the tomb weren’t expecting a miracle. According to Luke, they went to anoint the body with spices - they were expecting sorrow. They didn’t go to the tomb in faith. They went to the tomb overwhelmed with grief.


Sometimes we are told that miracles happen when we go looking for them, and that may be true. But thankfully, God’s miracles aren’t limited by our unbelief. They show up in the darkness, when we don’t have the faith left to ask for them. Mary Magdalene wasn’t praying to see the risen Christ. God brings light to the darkness whether we ask for it or not. You cannot stop the joy any more than you can stop the sun from rising. Even the darkest corners of your home will warm in the sun - the deepest part of your basement will be affected by the day. Burrow under blankets and turn on the air - the earth will warm around you and the sun will rise on the evil and the good - the rain fall on the just and the unjust.



It’s all well and good to expect a miracle - to pray for something and believe it will come to pass, and to hear platitudes from well-meaning Christians when our prayers seem unanswered.


Nowhere does the Bible say the disciples prayed for Jesus’ resurrection after the crucifixion. The remaining eleven don’t even seem to have been involved in his burial. A previously-unmentioned Joseph went and asks for the body and places it in a tomb. The disciples scattered - afraid, confused, and disappointed.


Even when the women came preaching the resurrection, the eleven didn’t believe it. Even faced with the empty tomb they remained confused and afraid. Even when Mary saw him she didn’t recognize him.


But he still rose. He met them on the sea. He found Mary in the garden.


Someday, your darkness will be the memory of a miracle. Your sorrow will be transformed into victory, and you will celebrate the darkest hours of your life, just like we celebrate Good Friday.


Let the darkness swallow you if it must. Let the doubt fill you.


The sun will rise. The miracles will come.


It’s only Friday. Sometimes we just have to wait for Sunday.


Last Writes

We all say goodbye differently

30 Nov, 2023
Goodbye

Water

By magnolia_admin • 01 Aug, 2019
Nothing really changes. Two thousand years ago, in the days following Christ’s crucifixion, a confused Simon Peter dealt with the darkness engulfing his life in the best way he knew how. He went fishing. He returned to the place where he met Jesus to begin with, and where he saw Him best. It was on the shore, mending his nets, where Peter first spoke to Christ; it was on the water where Christ proved he could meet Peter in a way he understood – catching fish. It was on the water that Peter witnessed power in the way most personal to him – on the sea, in a storm. He watched the sea still at Christ’s voice, stepped on waters he had fished for years, felt himself go under only to be saved by Jesus’ hand. And when He died, that’s where Peter returned – to waters he had seen stilled, where a storm had been silenced, hoping to silence the storm in himself. Once again returning to the sea as he was going under, hoping to be rescued.

Others

By magnolia_admin • 13 Dec, 2018
Most of you reading this are aware of the Southern custom regarding funeral processions: when a funeral procession comes by, if at all possible, oncoming traffic pulls to the side of the road as a gesture of respect. I’ve seen this done when it would be safer for all involved to forgo the practice for the moment, but on the whole it’s a beautiful acknowledgment of grief. It signifies our collective sorrow at a death, the community of humanity, and the need for others’ support. It speaks to our awareness of others, and our acknowledgment of their situation.

25 Years

By magnolia_admin • 11 May, 2018
This weekend Magnolia Funeral Home commemorates twenty-five years serving Corinth and the surrounding areas. This kind of business has no luxury of hope – when your loved ones come to us earthly hope is past. Our work holds no promise of healing – when we are with you true healing has already come. All of us live in the valley, in the shadow, but it’s been our privilege for the last twenty-five years to help light the path through it for you.

An Ode To Time

By magnolia_admin • 02 Oct, 2017
I walked in a home to carry the dead away. The owner’s dish from breakfast sat in his sink, unwashed. He ran out of time to take care of it. His books sat on his shelves. His clock ticked on, running. But his time came. The walls are lined with pictures – many of them old. Happy times – or times that pretended to be happy. Children. Parents. And neighbors waiting outside whisper to me “the kids won’t be here. They’re estranged.” So I look at the wall of pictures of people he doesn’t speak to. Whatever the grudge, the time for mending has passed. His pictures on the wall are just more things. Things he placed in his home so carefully – centering them on the wall and running a dust rag over the tops often enough to keep cobwebs away. They are still clear and clean. He has so many. But the things that matter, the things that aren’t things. They aren’t here.
Show More
Share by: