Reflections on a Funeral
This morning as I was up the road doing my graining of the stock up there, it began to rain on me. The sun was just coming up. I turned around and there to greet me was a double rainbow; just beautiful. There for all the area to see and enjoy; embodying a promise of God.
This morning we had to go to a funeral. I had never met the lady. Her sister had been a neighbor of my husband's family for many years. As had her nephew and his wife, I believe. She'd lived not far from here, and hubby's mom had kept in contact with her and her sister and one of her other family members.
This particular lady who'd passed, I'll call her Bessie, was 94 years and 4 days old. She'd lived in this community for a long time. I am not sure just how long, perhaps 15-20 years. Maybe more or less, I just don't know. I should have asked before blogging.
Anyway.
We went to the funeral. The visitation was from 9:30 AM to 10:30 AM, the funeral itself started at 10:30 AM. She and her husband had had 2 children; 9 grandchildren and various great grandchildren. The kind words written on the flyer were contrary to stories told about her by various people, including her family. There were only about 30 some people at the funeral, and we were the only locals. Yes, that's right. We three; hubby, his mother,and myself, were the only locals there. No other friends at all.
For some reason this seriously disturbed me. To have lived in an area and not had made friends or acquaintances who'd come to say good-bye seems like such an empty existance. I understand that at 94 years of age most of her peers have already passed years ago, but still. I hope and pray that when it comes my turn to go, even if I should live into and/or past my 100th year, there will be many people in the area come to say goodbye. Younger people, unrelated, whose lives I have somehow touched.
This day has made me more determined to be a part of my adopted community here in the Ozarks. I guess it isn't so much the desire to make a mark and be remembered as much as it is to make a difference for the better in the lives I touch.
That's my prayer.
This morning we had to go to a funeral. I had never met the lady. Her sister had been a neighbor of my husband's family for many years. As had her nephew and his wife, I believe. She'd lived not far from here, and hubby's mom had kept in contact with her and her sister and one of her other family members.
This particular lady who'd passed, I'll call her Bessie, was 94 years and 4 days old. She'd lived in this community for a long time. I am not sure just how long, perhaps 15-20 years. Maybe more or less, I just don't know. I should have asked before blogging.
Anyway.
We went to the funeral. The visitation was from 9:30 AM to 10:30 AM, the funeral itself started at 10:30 AM. She and her husband had had 2 children; 9 grandchildren and various great grandchildren. The kind words written on the flyer were contrary to stories told about her by various people, including her family. There were only about 30 some people at the funeral, and we were the only locals. Yes, that's right. We three; hubby, his mother,and myself, were the only locals there. No other friends at all.
For some reason this seriously disturbed me. To have lived in an area and not had made friends or acquaintances who'd come to say good-bye seems like such an empty existance. I understand that at 94 years of age most of her peers have already passed years ago, but still. I hope and pray that when it comes my turn to go, even if I should live into and/or past my 100th year, there will be many people in the area come to say goodbye. Younger people, unrelated, whose lives I have somehow touched.
This day has made me more determined to be a part of my adopted community here in the Ozarks. I guess it isn't so much the desire to make a mark and be remembered as much as it is to make a difference for the better in the lives I touch.
That's my prayer.
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