- I’ve recently mentioned a friend’s mother who died. I’ve been close to this friend since the eighth grade. His family moved to Mineral Wells because she got a teaching job at my old elementary school, Lamar. Soon, his father became the pastor of a local church, and I started to attend when I got my driver’s license. That church was a huge part of my life, and so was his family. His father, as they say, led me to Jesus, baptized and married me (he’ll probably end up doing my funeral), and was a constant part of my life. It helped that they moved to a city close to where I went to college, and I’d often drive through that town and pay his parents a visit on my way back to Mineral Wells. I haven’t had a mom (or a parent) since 2006. Most of that time, I felt I was too old and too much of a man to need a mom anymore. Then, out of nowhere, I was divorced and lost my family. I’ve had several big health scares. Sometimes, the only person I could find to take me to and from the hospital was that friend, who now happens to be pastoring a church in Mineral Wells, like his father. Over the last three years, his mom became a surrogate mother to me. For a while, I’d call her on a weekly basis, crying most of the time. She’d stay in contact by sending me encouraging text messages and telling me how much the kids and I were in her prayers. Her funeral was last Friday in Brownwood, a good three hours away. Of course, my little electric car couldn’t make it there, so I rented a car and took the day off work.
- It’s been a while since I’ve made a road trip. A friend in Azel, who also attended that church when we were kids, asked if he could ride with me. This friend, whom I’ve known since the seventh grade, has been the most loyal of all my friends. I used to make light of his ability to talk, and talk, and talk. But, over the years, especially during the divorce, he was constantly and proactively checking in on me, asking specific questions, none of that generic crap, about how I was doing and dealing with things. He’s also really passionate about politics and has always leaned pretty far right. There’s been a time or two when we’ve almost ended the friendship because of politics, but now we are smart enough not to bring it up any longer. But what I find funny is that as much as he talks, he often treads over to politics, and I’d either have to bite my tongue or change the subject. I knew that would happen going into this trip, and it did. I don’t think he purposely brought it up; he just got the gift of gab and will start drifting off on those topics, not realizing he’s making me uncomfortable. But all in all, it was a great road trip. It’s been a long time since I’ve driven through county roads through small towns and smelled cow manure. Well, other than some two-lane roads closed for construction and one-way traffic.
- Not only was she a pastor’s wife, a calling she lovingly embraced, but two of her five sons became pastors. Counting the father, you have three pastors in the family. She asked all three to speak at her funeral. And I’m so glad they called this what it was: a funeral and not a “celebration of life” or “going home” ceremony.
- I knew the two sons were going to have a tough time. Their goals were to honor Jesus and their mom in that order, and they did that, exemplary. But I wasn’t sure how their father would do. He was married to this woman for 51 years. Her casket was in the spot where they stood and were pronounced man and wife 51 years earlier.
- My friend said a lot of wonderful things. One that stood out to me was that he couldn’t believe she was gone, the suddenness of it all, and that he had just had lunch with her ten days ago. He talked about the faith and joy she had in Jesus, at one point writing a list of 15 ways cancer is a blessing. He asked, “Who does that?”
- It was standing room only at the church. I was one of those of stood, and boy, was my back aching. On the last row were two young couples with babies. These babies were loud, laughing at times. Personally, I couldn’t think of anything more selfish than bringing those kids to a funeral and neither parent taking the kids out of the sanctuary. A few times I was tempted to go over and say, “Your baby is loud and distracting and keeping others from honoring this woman and her family.” Oh, I came so close. Especially when my friends were speaking through tears trying to keep it together. Both of them have preached for over 20 years, so I knew it wasn’t affecting them. Eventually, they took the hint from all the glares, and the fathers took them outside.
- After the two sons spoke, it was time for her husband of 51 years to speak. I’ve never seen the man cry or have a sad day in his life. And still haven’t. I have never seen a family member of the dearly departed so held together and full of joy. Now, there’s a difference between being happy and having joy, especially when you are part of the faith and have joy from the spirit. This man’s faith was solid, and his joy was evident. There wasn’t a doubt, not a doubt in his mind his wife was in the Church Triumphant, experiencing glory, and one day would be reunited. The man is also very comfortable with death. He’s done a plethora of funerals and is currently working for the local funeral home, helping grieving families mourn and bury and cremate loved ones. I guess, when I really thought about it, it all made sense. The man was in his element. His profession is preaching and dealing with death. He has literally stood in front of the church, speaking to others thousands of times. If he was assertive or passionate about anything, it was that all his wife’s jewelry was on tables in the foyer for everyone to have and that he didn’t want to take a single item back to the house.
- At the end of the funeral, the casket was opened, and it was time for everyone to walk by. I was one of the first. My friend, who tearfully spoke of his mother, was sitting with his family and his back to the audience. I only planned on patting him on the shoulder as I walked by, but he got up and gave me a big hug, a longer one than usual. It made me think of what Barry wrote about giving hugs at his mother’s funeral and apologizing for keeping the hug for a second longer than what was needed.
- My friend’s wife told me she started reviewing her late mother-in-law’s prayer journals. She told me she read entries that mentioned me and possession time with my children.
- There were so many people at that funeral that I personally knew but could no longer recognize because I literally haven’t seen some of them since 1995.
- For any of you interested in reading her obituary on the back of the funeral program, here you go.
- DaughterGeeding had a softball that evening. I tried to make it back for the start, but due to road construction and rush-hour traffic, I missed about a third of the game.
- While watching Batman: The Animated Series, the closed captioning displayed a crook saying, “Cop a squat.” I always thought it was “pop a squat.” A little research tells me it’s both, but the “cop a squat” became popular in the Seventies.
- Junior Miller read my email on the air last week. It was basically my final eclipse thoughts I posted yesterday.
- Gallery Worker Fired for Sneaking His Own Art Into Exhibit
- An art gallery in Germany featuring paintings by such greats as Pablo Picasso and Salvador Dalí has fired an employee after learning he’d snuck his own painting into a recent exhibit. The artwork, measuring more than a meter in length, was rather conspicuously hung in an empty passageway.
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Here's a clip of our side-by-side comparison of the apologies. To see full comparison, follow this link to our article: https://t.co/u5F60KzOqZ 2/2 pic.twitter.com/p8JKAd9FoR
— Julie Roys (@reachjulieroys) April 13, 2024
