“A Kingdom of uses.” Sometimes a phrase I  have known since childhood takes on new meaning with a new state in MY life. This happened to me this summer, a season full of unexpected developments—a long-awaited sailing trip in Greenland, an epic 6-day journey home, my mom’s death, a stent for my husband’s heart, a re-injured head for a niece, and a family reunion at memorial service time. It may seem like an unlikely time to discuss use, but now that fall is here and life is settling down, I notice things that I did not see before, that seem to live out this idea of a “kingdom of uses.”

I did not start out the summer thinking much about the kingdom of uses. First, there was a long-planned adventure. My husband Mark and I joined another couple to sail in Greenland together, a rare opportunity. As it turned out, this trip was dampened almost from the start with the realization that my mom was failing, maybe this time finally.  By the time we got far enough north to take ferries and flights back south, it was clear that we might not get back in time to say good-bye. While Mark and I were flying over the fjords of Greenland, he in the pilot cockpit in a most unusual turn of events (another side story), the most beautiful flight imaginable, my mom made that transition to the spiritual world.

What followed (after three more days of travel) was a period laden with “formative moments,” exhausting yet exhilarating, emotionally meaningful, long-awaited reunions, conversations, and meals together with loved ones near and far. My external mind was occupied with thoughts like, “I get to see my cousin that I haven’t seen for 30 years?!” or “How can the grandkids get their breakfasts simply at the Air B and B?” or “who could accommodate my dear friend?” or “When can we get together to practice singing?” Yet all the while I could  sense that this was the “stuff of life” happening, not to be short-changed in any way. My parents’ grandchildren, all of them young adults, were living out some memorable and formative days, and it would not do to miss a minute!

Perhaps most miraculous of all was Mark’s growing chest pain and trip to the ER, resulting in surgery from which he recovered almost instantly, for a situation (blocked artery) that could have killed him in Greenland. In family lore, the narrative became “mom brought Mark home.” Her time was over, but his wasn’t. 

In retrospect, what stands out about that extraordinary period of time between mom first real sign of failing and the service two weeks after her death, was the feeling of awe in how seamlessly it all worked out. Anyone who knows my mom knows that she could never stand for fuss, or pretense. Honesty was the best policy, even when propriety might demand otherwise. Knowing this influenced us, consciously or unconsciously. Somehow we all felt, strongly, that mom would only want us to do what we really wanted to do, and nothing more. She was never one for fancies for their own sake; this was the one time in her life that she would have things her way. No one would fuss unnecessarily. No one would choose frivolity over substance. The only things that mattered were to be the things that mattered! So we all did what really mattered to us, and what we felt capable of doing. 

What did this mean in practice? First, I adored writing mom’s obituary and even enjoyed the editorial job of incorporating comments from five family members who are also writers!

Second, I love to plan services and have done many at our church in Two Harbors. I felt certain that mom would want to expose as many people as possible to Swedenborg—in a way that would be palatable or intriguing. Especially her friends, with whom she often felt tongue-tied about her own religion. This was her—our—chance! We therefore magined a service that would not just expose people to “distinct” New Church beliefs, but one that would resonate with them, that would voice beliefs that they perhaps already held without consciously expressing them. We incorporated in New Church music that was most beloved by Dad, who even stood up and offered a heartfelt explanation of “what this song means to me,” before we sang “O Precious Sign” with our local choir that didn’t, of course, know the song previously. 

My other sisters were naturally passionate about different aspects of the service and the relatives gathering. Vera thought deeply about the doctrinal message that would eminate from readings, sermon, and rituals. She and dad worked through many details that only she had the mental bandwidth and emotional desire to consider. I could absolutely feel my mom rejoicing at these conversations—that we were talking about REAL THINGS.

Mary, who had been the one by mom’s side for the days preceding her passing, had gone home to California to re-group but returned to do things like arrange flowers for the service, keep track of grandkids’ flight schedules, and keep dad’s meals coming.

Lamar, who stayed in Two Harbors for over two weeks, kept communications flowing online, hosted a large family barbecue and gathering at the nearby park, bought breakfast goods for the grandkids at their Air B and B, weighed in on catering decisions, and communicated critical pieces with dad.

As the central host family, all I noticed was that food kept coming and going, dishes kept being done, people came and went, conversations kept going, food came and went again, the frig was always full, another meal came and went, somehow seamlessly, everyone doing their part. The bulletin was printed, the catering arranged, the tech. guy hired for both the service and the speeches afterwards, church people enlisted for various tasks, flowers kept showing up.

And, being Goodenough girls, we also all managed to get in our running/walking/dipping time along Lake Superior. And dad got in his naps.

What made it all go so well? Maybe that’s what the “kingdom of uses” means! In modern terms, the “community of uses.” We had a clear purpose. We all had different skill sets and energy levels. We all came from different situations and lived in different situations. We each did our own job, as we best saw it, to our best ability, and trusted that the whole would be served. And it was. Maybe that’s what a kingdome of uses really means. Maybe doing this for a short amount of time, for a specific purpose, where all of us are deeply engaged due to our affections (our love of mom), we got a sense of what this would be like to live all the time in a heavenly community. Including, I might add, the rest needed afterwards!

 “In heaven everyone comes into his own occupation …. He comes into the employment or occupation corresponding to his use in much the same conditions of life as when he was in the world …. Yet there is this difference, that he then comes into an interior delight, because into spiritual life … and therefore (it is) more receptive of heavenly blessedness” (Heaven and Hell 394).