Why We Show Up for Funerals

"It's all about respect, respect, respect.  It's about taking an hour or two out of your life to honor someone else's.  It costs so little and it gives so much back."  ~Bunny Terry

Last week I read a blog post by another Logan native and it absolutely blew me away.  The post is called, "Always Go To The Funeral - New Mexico style."  To read it, click here.

I have been to most funerals in my first 30 years than most people go to in their lifetimes.  I did a quick count last night and came up with 32 off the top of my head, and that was without really sitting down and thinking.  I've been to several of the same funerals that Bunny mentions in her blog.  I've sat in a packed gymnasium, in a tiny church on a hill, and next to a graveside by the interstate.  I've carried a casket and given two eulogies and cried countless tears.  It was at a funeral that I first saw my dad with tears in his eyes and first heard the song, "I Can Only Imagine," and have seen more examples of unfailing faith than I could even begin to describe.

But what I've learned from these experiences is that rural communities--especially those in rural New Mexico--pull together in hard times.   That starts with showing up for the funeral.  We manage to make something right out of situations that are nothing but wrong. We bring an enchilada casserole and wear our Sunday best.  We love and pray and support the families who have lost their loved one because even if not blood related, many times it feels like losing a family member of our own.

I don't wish the pain of losing someone who you love on anyone in the world.  But if that day comes, I do wish that everyone could have the support of the small towns in Eastern New Mexico where I grew up.  Because as I've said before, those communities are never finer than when the time comes to honor one of their own.  I've watched this sense of community pull people through their absolute darkest hour with prayer and encouragement and a helping hand.

That's why it matters.  That's why we show up for funerals.

Two Months of Photos: Week 3

"Ain't goin' down til' the sun comes up...." ~Garth Brooks

This week has been a total whirlwind.  Sheep sale, funeral, unpacking a house, a cross Texas road trip, a bachelorette weekend, an 8 mile pre-half marathon run with Loud Oklahoma Girl, and a couple of 30 by 30 list items done.  Plus I got to spend time with my family, great family friends, some of my favorite girls, and The Boy from Texas (who was hinted at here).  I'm exhausted.  But I enjoyed every minute of it.

Sunday

Sheep Sale

Monday

Standing Guard

A Cowboy's Boots

On Behalf of a Grateful Nation

Tuesday

Splash of Orange

Wednesday

My Mantle

Thursday

Road Trip Across Texas

Friday

A Bachelorette Dinner

Saturday

Candles at the Cathedral

Never Finer

“This town of churches and dreams; this town I thought I would lose myself in, with its backward ways and winding roads leading to nowhere; but, I found myself instead." ~Kellie Elmore

A tiny white church sitting at the top of a hill overflows with people.  Men standing outside in cowboy hats and boots.  Women sitting in the pews with their hair poofed and their pearls on.  Flower arrangements fill the window sills.  Old, familiar songs drift out the open door.  How Great Thou Art.  Old Rugged Cross.  Amazing Grace.

Most Sundays, the people inside go to various churches.  But today, no one notices the differences.  Methodist or Catholic, Baptist or Mormon, Epsicopalian or Assemblies of God.  Today, everyone sits together.  They hug each other as they walk in and say the Our Father in unison.  Differences matter not.  They mourn together, they pray together, and they remember together.

Photo via

And then at the quiet, country cemetery, everyone gathers around a grave.  The sun beats down and the ranchers talk about rain, or the last basketball season, or the last time that they all stood in the same cemetery around a different grave.  Because this same community has been here before and will be here again.  Together.

Once the prayers have been prayed and Taps has been played, they load up into their pickup trucks and drive to the old school building for lunch.  Because if there is one thing that small town ladies do right, its a funeral meal.  A spread big enough to feed an army sits out on tables that span the width of the basketball court. And here, people recognize the different dishes based on the cooks.  "Oh, that's Mary's chocolate cake" or "Those look like Pam's enchilladas."  And before the meal, the men remove their hats, the kids put down the basketball, and the priest blesses the food.  Because that's how you start a meal.

Small towns are not for everyone.  There are no fancy restaurants.  You have to drive two hours to the nearest Wal-Mart.  A lot of people there have never flown on an airplane or seen the ocean or owned a passport. 

But they know the meaning of neighbors, and of community, and of love.  And they show it when times get hard.  And if you ask me, small towns are never finer than in these moments.

*Linking up with Rural Thursday.

That Time I Said "Syphilis" In A Eulogy.

"We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will." ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Intrigued? A snappy title is always a good way to start a semi-sad blog post.

As you might remember from last week, my Uncle David passed away. My aunt and cousins asked me to speak at the funeral. At first, I wasn't totally sure I could do it, but let's be honest, how do you say no to something so important? And that, is how I ended up giving a eulogy.

I'll admit that I did attempt to calm some nerves by making a deal with Cousin Kevin that involved a pre-funeral "business meeting" and two shot glasses. I can always count on him. Turned into a sort of bonding experience I don't think I'll ever forget.

My instruction for the eulogy was to make it as much fun as life was with Uncle David. Like I said at the funeral, that was not possible, but I did my best to make everyone laugh. I told stories about bar fights that landed him and Uncle Buddy under a pool table, and about him getting arrested for roping hippies, and about him punching out his college professor. Stories about great pranks played on each other by family members over the years. Stories about York pigs and York sisters and mowing down my grandma's favorite flower bush. I thought I was pretty clever.

How did the word "syphilis" get included you wonder? Good question. Aunt Midge wanted to include a story about each of the 8 grandchildren. She chose the stories and wrote them up for me. One involved my little cousin Baby Quarterback (who you read about here) when he was about 4 or 5 years old. His dad, Cousin Kevin, convinced Baby Quarterback that he had this amazing thing that only the toughest guys and best athletes have. And it was called.....syphilis. So Baby Quarterback called Uncle David all excited to tell him the great news. Uncle David's response? "Don't tell your grandma!" Classic.

If there's one thing that I took away from that funeral, it was that one person's life can impact so many others. The funeral was in a gym, becuase the churches in town were not big enough to hold the people. My ND Friend may have put it best when she said, "Who you are is better because of who he was." Countless people can say that about Uncle David. In the end, what more can you ask for?

And after the funeral, we fulfilled Uncle David's deathbed instruction---to have a party. The whole family--30 of us or so spent New Years Eve in a hunting lodge just hanging out, laughing and telling stories. It wasn't Times Square or the Vegas Strip or kissing Mr. Right at midnight....but it was exactly where I needed to be. I think it was the perfect tribute.
Aunt Elaine summed it up, when she said we did the whole thing, eulogy to post-funeral party, "Uncle David style." I think he'd be proud.

I Saw God Today

"People see God every day, they just don't recognize him." ~Pearl Bailey

Three stories. Three eye opening experiences. Three God sightings.

Better Days.

I went to a funeral last week for my friends' grandpa. It was in a tiny Catholic Church in a tiny town. Before the service started, Little Brother whispered to me, "This church has seen better days." After looking around, I agreed. The walls were cracked. The wallpaper in the front was peeling off. The pews were rickety. There were large holes where insulation was showing.

A little while later, I looked around and changed my mind. The church was filled to the brim with people there to pay their respects to Grandpa Ernie and to support his family. Everyone was standing and singing "Amazing Grace" together. As I looked around, despite the physical condition of the church building, I thought, "You know, I don't know if it does get better than this."

Just Singing.

I was in church last week sitting a couple of rows behind a woman in a wheelchair. She couldn't use her hands and could hardly move her arms. While we were singing one song, all about the love that God has for us and how wonderful his blessings are, I noticed the woman in her chair. She had her arms raised up as high as she could and sang her heart out. She thanked God for her blessings and for his love and you would have never known the struggles she faced.

It's That Simple.

While I was hanging out with Little Cowboy a couple weekends ago, talking mostly about guns and roping (our favorite topics), he asked me out of the blue, "Do you know why Jesus died?" I asked him why. He said, "For our sin. And now we can go to Heaven." And just like that, we went back to discussing hte importance of having a two holster gun belt when fighting bad guys. This four year old seems to have a better grasp on the point of faith than I do. What more needed to be said? It really is just that simple, isn't it?