Funeral March

Many years ago I heard our pastor tell a story. He had gone to sit with a couple who had lost a son while the young man was living in another state. The parents couldn't afford to bring his body home, nor could they afford to have a funeral service.

Pastor went out to his car, took out his guitar, and held an impromptu memorial service right there in the family's trailer.

At the moment I heard this story I vowed that my children would play music, if, for no other reason, but to comfort others.

Now the two oldest boys sing at funerals. I learned last night that a friend of ours who just passed requested that the choir sing "The Battle Hymn of The Republic" at his service. J, now 18, always plays the snare drum and adds a big, passionate ending to that song.

His performance reminds me of the song, "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." Please allow me to explain.

Last summer, at the American Legion Boys State, a drummer from the U.S. Army Band played for the participants and challenged them to drum duals. J sat by, quietly, until everyone present had been beaten. Then a kid who knew him, suggested he give it a go.

J is BEAST on the drum (think of The Muppet's "Animal.")He sweats, his tongue sometimes slips out, and his hands move in perfect rythem. The U.S. Army Band drummer admitted defeat.

I cried in public when he played The Battle Hymn for our annual fouth of July service. How will I keep it together during Terry's funeral?!

A woman very dear to me, from my childhood, was buried on Wednesday. This Sunday, we will celebrate the going-home of a long-time missionary to our church, Miss Winters. Last weekend we hosted two little boys while their parents spent hours, bedside, at the hospital where their grandfather was clinging to life. This has been such a long, difficult winter - so hard on the frail and elderly.

I found this today...

Be agreeable. Be sympathetic. Be loving. Be humble.

That goes for all of you.
No exceptions. No retaliation.
No sharp-tongued sarcasm.

Instead, bless.
That's your job. To bless.

from 1 Peter 3:9


Follow-up 3/3/14
the choir sang "Battle Hymn of The Republic" and J played the snare drum for the memorial service. Midway through the song, Terry's widow stood up and saluted them. It was beautiful. I cried and cried.