(No Title)

My new email friend Pastor Dave says that no matter how many funerals he conducts, the one thing he wishes is that he'd known the deceased better. He's in good company. I've sat through services where the minister kept calling the dearly departed by the wrong first name. And not just a little bit wrong, either. Not just "Bill" when it should have been "Bob." That kind of mistake causes the congregants to merely snicker, proud of themselves for being intimate friends with Bob. No, I'm talking "Horatio" when it should have been "Malcolm"--the kind of error that reduces a roomful of mourners into a puddling mass of hysterics. If the truth be known, of course, most of the gigglers and weepers don't know Malcolm very well, either. If the deceased had only been known better by the minister, we think, there would be an air of authenticity about the event that would comfort us--almost as if we'd taken the time to know the fellow ourselves. We could nod, and smile through tears, and feel more heartbroken than we are, thankful that the minister did his job and reached out while the poor guy was still alive. Attending a funeral gives me pause to examine what's true about my relationships, and to change what's false. Sometimes, I think, it's even better if the minister doesn't know the deceased at all. If I knew him, really knew him, it should be enough. And if I didn't, well, the minister's friendship with him might turn out to be an undeserved comfort. Maybe it's better if I have to squirm a little.

Posted by Katy on 08/22/02 at 01:07 PM

Fallible Comments...

Pastor Dave, I've always felt there's more "conviction of sin" going on at a funeral than any other place. Tears aren't the final evidence of it, of course. Change is. I'll pray for the granddaughter. Glad it went well.
Posted by Katy on 12/31/69 at 06:00 PM
thanks for the reply katy, the service went well yesterday despite some tension over an estranged grand-daughter who'd stolen from and swindled this dear old lady. she wept the most... was it remorse or repentence or something much less? God only knows, but the seed of the gospel was scattered and perhaps ... perhaps those tears will moisten a parched soul and the Spirit may germinate new life in the passing of the old.
-----
Posted by pastordave on 12/31/69 at 06:00 PM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	(No Title) My new email friend Pastor Dave says that no matter how many funerals he conducts, the one thing he wishes is that he'd known the deceased better. He's in good company. I've sat through services where the minister kept calling the dearly departed by the wrong first name. And not just a little bit wrong, either. Not just "Bill" when it should have been "Bob." That kind of mistake causes the congregants to merely snicker, proud of themselves for being intimate friends with Bob. No, I'm talking "Horatio" when it should have been "Malcolm"--the kind of error that reduces a roomful of mourners into a puddling mass of hysterics. If the truth be known, of course, most of the gigglers and weepers don't know Malcolm very well, either. If the deceased had only been known better by the minister, we think, there would be an air of authenticity about the event that would comfort us--almost as if we'd taken the time to know the fellow ourselves. We could nod, and smile through tears, and feel more heartbroken than we are, thankful that the minister did his job and reached out while the poor guy was still alive. Attending a funeral gives me pause to examine what's true about my relationships, and to change what's false. Sometimes, I think, it's even better if the minister doesn't know the deceased at all. If I knew him, really knew him, it should be enough. And if I didn't, well, the minister's friendship with him might turn out to be an undeserved comfort. Maybe it's better if I have to squirm a little. Posted by Katy on 08/22/02 at 01:07 PM Fallible Comments... Pastor Dave, I've always felt there's more "conviction of sin" going on at a funeral than any other place. Tears aren't the final evidence of it, of course. Change is. I'll pray for the granddaughter. Glad it went well. Posted by Katy on 12/31/69 at 06:00 PM thanks for the reply katy,<br>the service went well yesterday<br>despite some tension over an <br>estranged grand-daughter who'd<br>stolen from and swindled this dear old<br>lady. she wept the most... was it <br>remorse or repentence or something<br>much less? God only knows, but the <br>seed of the gospel was scattered <br>and perhaps ... perhaps those tears<br>will moisten a parched soul and the <br>Spirit may germinate new life in the <br>passing of the old. ----- Posted by pastordave on 12/31/69 at 06:00 PM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: (No Title) Previous entry: (No Title) << Back to main


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Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri