The Very Best Funeral.

 

My best friend lost her beloved grandmother last week. It is the first person she has lost. The only funeral she had ever been to prior to Mama Ruth’s, was my mom’s. Ashley told me that the hardest part was seeing her Papa Joe weeping over her casket. My heart broke for him, for her.. and at the same time, rejoiced in that rare and precious love after 65 years of marriage. I said as much to Ashley. And, being the best friend that I am, I piped up that “Todd wouldn’t do that. He would holler for someone to “come nail this thing shut and wheel her outta here!” Ashley laughed, and her spirits lifted.

My favorite thing to do with Ashley, besides just being around her in general, is to make her laugh when she needs it most. Back in high school, she came into class one day bothered to death about something. She wouldn’t talk about it. So while our annoying teacher was yapping away about something, I grabbed Ashley’s milky pens (hollaaaa!), popped the cap off and just stared at her as I dragged the pen from my forehead, straight down my nose, and landed on my chin. Her eyes got huge, and the little stars (she has the prettiest eyes, y’all) that were missing came back and were dancing. I grabbed another pen and did it again, this one was green. She smiled. Whispered, “Can I do it?” and I nodded. She grabbed another color and drew more lines on my face. She started giggling, and in minutes my face was covered in all sorts of milky shapes and lines. This Monday, I had her daughter while she was in Tennessee for the service. After the service she read my updates, one of which was, “The girls and I may or may not have accidentally walked into the men’s restroom at Chickfila today. And I didn’t even realize it until Evelyn saw the urinal and squealed ‘EW IT’S A BOYS!!!!!!!!!!’ We saw nothing. No men were in there and no one was eternally mortified. But in my defense, at every other CFA in America, the women’s restroom is on the left. Except this one. I just go left by default’.” She responded how hysterical that was and she needed to hear that in the midst of the sadness. She even added two crying-laughing emojis, so I knew it was legit.

Today, after talking with her about how hard Mama Ruth’s service was, and then getting her to laugh, I started thinking about all the funerals I have been to. I have been to at least 10, my first at age six. Funerals are so hard. Even when they are referred to as “Celebration of Life” services. Even when you know that you will see that person again in Heaven. Sometimes its hard to wait until then.

I started thinking about my own funeral Celebration of Life service. What it would look like. I decided I cannot handle people being sad. So, I started texting Ashley my plans. If you don’t have a friend you can text random crazy crap to, you need to find one, buy one, rent one… something. Just get one. Like yesterday. Anyway. I have literally been thinking up these ideas all morning and could not wait to get them written up. I’ll share them with you. By the time I’m done, you’ll be looking forward to my funeral. And if you don’t know me, you’ll want to meet me just so you can come.

First things first- there will be a few mandatory rules.

  1. No one is allowed to wear black. The only exception is my sister, Holly, because it’s all she wears and I don’t want her to have to spend money just to come to my party. The rest of you- happy colors. I’ve rarely paid attention to ettiqute. ettiquite. ettiquit? (looks up correct spelling) ETIQUETTE, so I’m not about to start. Wear your pinks and greens and blues and patterns. My bouncers will not let you in otherwise. (Shout out to my girl Siri for helping me spell the E word).
  2. No one is allowed to say or write “Rest in Peace” or “RIP”. I will not be resting, I will be teaching Jesus and the other brethren how to Dougie and how to Whip and Nae Nae. With a guest appearance from Stanky Leg. And I’ll probably be hollering at my mom that “This is not the time for the Electric Slide. You’re embarrassing me. Mom, stop it.”
  3. There will be no tissues anywhere. They will be replaced with dozens of colorful, confetti-and-glitter-filled balloons. I don’t want anyone being sad. If anyone even sniffles, my bouncers will stand behind you with pins and pop balloons. You will be covered with glitter and confetti, and you may have to change your underoos, but you will not be crying anymore.

 

Okay, now here is where it gets fun. Once you get past my bouncers with your colorful outfits,you’ll be greeted by Justin Timberlake’s “Can’t Stop The Feeling!” If you live under a rock and haven’t heard it yet, go click on that link and watch. You absolutely cannot sit still or be sad when that song is on. Which is exactly what I’m going for here. Now, if you’re done watching and dancing, let’s continue. There will be a table that has a bunch of colorful programs AND MILKY PENS (that one’s for you, Ash). In the program will be a space where every person has to write down the most ridiculous and funny story they can remember about me. Another page will be a crossword puzzle (you know, while you’re waiting for the service to start. If you aren’t dancing to JT.) and the clues will be in my obituary. That I wrote. It will be composed entirely of FRIENDS references.  Another page will be my favorite movie quotes. Actually, that may end up being about seven pages long.

I’ll have a table with Chickfila nuggets with every type of sauce you could possibly want. I considered the broccolini-kale salad for you health-conscious peeps, but this is a party, and kale will never be at one of my parties. There will be frozen margaritas, or for those of you who don’t drink, the new frosted coffees from Chickfila (have you tried those yet? HOLY NECTAR FROM HEAVEN you are missing out. Go grab some change- you’ll need $2.92 for a small- and go through the drive-thru today and get one. You can thank me later. With one. So you’ll actually need $5.84. I’ll take mine with whipped cream. Go big or go home, don’t judge me.).

The service will be almost entirely led by you. My people. Remember that ridiculous memory you wrote down on the program with your milky pen? Now’s your chance to throw me under the bus. I can’t do anything about it, so make it a good one.  I want everyone to walk up to the microphone and read their memory. Like I said, go big or go home. I want everyone laughing until they need the Depends that will be strategically placed under their seats. The formal eulogy will be given by none other than Ellen. THE Ellen. The only crying I will allow at my funeral is from tears of laughter.

When you leave the service, I want you to pick up a bottle of bubbles and a party favor. When they wheel my casket out (that will be in the shape of Cinderella’s pumpkin coach thankyouverymuch), I want those bubbles making a canopy for my grand procession. I opted out of sparklers because once when I was seven, we were doing sparklers for the 4th of July and a spark burned a hole in my sock and burned my skin. I have literally never held another sparkler and I am deathly afraid of them. Bubbles are safe and don’t scare me, so sparklers are out and bubbles are in. And who can resist smiling when bubbles are flying everywhere?

Your favors are going to be a booklet of my favorite pinterest humor cards. Current favorite: “I hope that wherever my hair ties go, they’re happy. That’s all that matters.” I want you to read them and laugh, and then put them on your coffee table so that other people can read and laugh. Or maybe you should put them in your bathroom so there aren’t any awkward moments on your couch.

——

Y’all. I had the best time thinking this stuff up. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have enjoyed sharing it. I don’t know if my funeral will be when I’m 35 or 95, or if Jesus will come back before then and we will all be taken up in glory. I have been to my fair share of services, including my own mother’s. Funerals are hard. Waiting until heaven is hard. I hope my funeral plans convey to you the joy I have in Christ and in living. And all of the joy and laughter in this service of mine is nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the joy that is waiting in Heaven when all the broken things become unbroken. Where all the tears will be uncried. Where all the grief will be unfelt. Eternal joy is waiting for those of us who love Jesus, and is available to anyone who calls on His name.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go dance to some JT because if I’m honest, I’m a leeeeeetle bit jealous of all y’all who get to come to my service. Also, contrary to what you may believe, I was not approached by Chickfila about advertising for them on my blog or at my service. I am just obsessed with what is basically my second home.

Cheers,

Em

 

Image by dailyscocktails.com

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I Got To.

My hands are covered in Elmer’s glue, pen smudges, and marker. I have dirt under my fingernails and scattered across my living room floor. My daughter’s third grade science project is due tomorrow- a poster presentation on a cabbage plant (which is miraculously still alive. if you read my last post and prayed for her cabbage, I’m asking God to give you a special jewel in your crown.). In project world, we go big or go home. Mecaden decides she wants to receive a 4- the highest grade- for her project, so WE DO FOUR WORK. It required two straight days of cutting, coloring, gluing, writing, and graphing. In addition to her project today, I was fixing meals (including lunches for school tomorrow), wiping faces, bottoms, and tables. From a dining chair, I scraped off mosaic artwork… which was actually pieces of processed cheese slices my three year old tore up and stuck to the back of the chair. I sent noses to corners, tantrums to bedrooms, and pee-pee dances to the bathroom. I played chase with my 16 month old and ran errands with my 8 year old. I folded, hung and put away laundry, unloaded the dishwasher and loaded it back up for another run. I read bedtimes stories, sang and prayed. I came back downstairs to pick up toys, set out backpacks, and wipe things down again.

I’m exhausted from another day of motherhood. But it is a joyful exhaustion.

My pastor spoke this morning of Biblical Womanhood, and how God purposefully designed male and female with distinct and valuable roles and character traits in order to give the world a glimpse of God. Eventually, he led us to Proverbs 31, where we read about noble character in a wife. In Proverbs 31, over and over, it is mentioned how the woman takes care of her home and the people in her home. She quite literally makes her home. She helps shape the people in her home. Often times in our society, being at home or even being a mom has become ridiculed. It has become a sign of weakness. But that’s not how God views it. My pastor said “The home is the building block of culture. God did not call women to build the home because He believed she was unable to do greater things. God called women to build the home because there is no greater thing.” Being a mother is one of the highest callings… making our homes and shaping the lives that come out of it directly affects everyone and everything else. Whether you are a stay-at-home mom, or you work outside the home- that’s neither here nor there. Your calling as a mother is the greatest thing you could ever do.If you have time, please watch the sermon I linked above. It will be well worth your time.

No, I didn’t get the day off today. I didn’t have “me time”. Had I not heard our sermon this morning, I might have been a little bitter about the posts on facebook where moms got the day off. (There is nothing wrong with that. I hope you got your nails did, and your summer wardrobe updated, and didn’t lift a finger all day. I love that you were able to get “me time”.) As I was tucking her in, my oldest asked me if I had the greatest Mother’s Day ever. I smiled and stifled a giggle thinking of the cheese on the chair and the dirt all over my living room. I told her that yes, I did have the greatest Mother’s Day ever. And I meant it. Projects and discipline, messes and chase- they don’t know it’s a special occasion. They didn’t get the memo. But they certainly do make today exactly what it’s about- celebrating motherhood. Celebrating that I get the unmerited privilege of making my home, and shaping my children, and striving to point them toward Christ.

I just re-read the first paragraph I wrote up there. But I read it differently. I added in “I got to” before each line. I got to help my third grader with her project. I got to scrape cheese off my chair. I got to play chase with my toddler. I got to do laundry. I got to fix meals. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. I got to be a mother. And I get to, every day. I have four littles to love and shape. I have friends and family who have struggled or are still struggling to have children. They would do anything to scrape cheese off chairs and work on school projects. It puts things in perspective and humbles me. I’m incredibly thankful for this high calling on my life- every sticky, messy, silly, and lovely thing about it.

Happy Mother’s Day

Emily

 

For my sweet friends who are struggling today… whether you are single and long for marriage and children, are married or in a relationship and are trying for a baby, or have a baby (or more) in Heaven, or are missing your own mother today… you are not forgotten. I am praying for you- those whom I know, and those I don’t. it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to not even want to get near social media on days like today. You are not weak, you are stronger than any of us can even imagine. I am so sorry for your grief and your pain. I am praying that God would fulfill the longings in your hearts and the aches in your arms, but if not- that you would be able to trust the He is still good. And that one day, all the  broken things will become unbroken. Wish I could hug each and every one of you precious things.