I’ve been asked by friends on several different occasions to accompany them to events when they needed a last-minute escort.

One time it was wedding.

Wedding=food+cake.

“Sure, I’ll go.”

Another time, many moons ago, it was a blind date.

Blind date=food+entertainment (for me anyway).

“Sure, I’ll go.”

If my bosom buddies happen to find themselves in a pickle needing a last-minute companion, if I’m asked, I’ll most likely go.

The following was a particularly unusual circumstance…

A friend called me up crying.

One of her co-workers she had worked with years ago had passed away.

She considered this gentleman a close friend and was obviously very distraught over his passing.

She didn’t want to go to the funeral alone…

“Will you go with me???”

My typical, “Sure, I’ll go!” was the farthest thing from my mind.

UHHHHH…

Not trying to be selfish here, but I was thinking there would be no food, no cake, no entertainment…

I have done a lot of things, but go to a FUNERAL?! That I didn’t HAVE to go to??

UHHHHHH…

I will also add, that I do NOT do funerals very well at ALL.

Through the many sobs, and at some point, the word “yes” came out of my mouth…

 

The day came.

I picked up my friend and off I drove to attend the last rites service of a person,

a now corpse,

of whom I didn’t even know.

But you do crazy crap for friends, right?

She was clearly upset, so there was a lot of silence on the way. This worked to my advantage as it was time for me to mentally get my thoughts straight on how to approach the upcoming situation.

I didn’t even know the guy, was this even appropriate?

Man I dreaded this…

So like, how would I address the family of the deceased??

I was a complete stranger.

Ok. I got it!

I would simply say, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Cliche, I know, but short, sweet, and to the point.

And of course, I would be sorry. Having lost both my parents, it breaks my heart to see any grieving family member.

But, also having been a grieving family member, I know that in the mist of everything, you are distracted. You don’t necessarily try and ‘figure out’ who’s who. You are simply just grateful that, whomever they are, came.

I was definitely overthinking this whole thing.

I’m sure I would blend in.

As my Mama used to always say, I was “making a mountain out of a mole hill!”

It would be fine! I could do this. We would slide in the service and it would be over before I knew it.

Mission accomplished, and out for a milkshake afterwards.

We arrived at a very large church.

I remember being there a little early and most of the parking lot was already getting full.

I asked my friend if she wanted to wait in the car for a bit or go on into the church.

She opted to go on in.

It would be ok, though- we were early- but not TOO early.

I am notorious for being late for, well, everything

Except funerals…

I seriously feel socially awkward at them and certainly don’t need any unnecessary attention drawn to myself.

That is the one occasion I am usually always early for…

A line had already formed outside to enter the church and we stepped in the back.

I began to take notice of the people attending.

I did a double take around the parking lot and at the line of cars that continued to pull in.

Most of the people-

I’m sorry-ALL of the people-

within my circumferential viewing area,

were African Americans.

So much for ‘blending in.’

We entered the lobby.

The noise level was that of any public establishment, but certainly louder than one would expect for this occasion.

There wasn’t the quiet, whispering condolences to one another, or the mutual conscious low level of voice control that typically coincides at a funeral.

I stepped forward to receive a hardy handshake from a man that was passing out the memorial programs.

He handed me one.

“Thank you for coming!” He said with a toothy grin in a loud gregarious type greeting.

“Thanks for having me!”

Oh my gosh, did I really just say that?!

Well, he caught me off guard! You’re not supposed to be so darn chipper at a funeral for Pete’s sake!

I looked down at the memorial program of the deceased-we’ll call him “Jack.”  It was very well put together. There was a very striking photograph on the front. Jack looked to be an exuberant and boisterous man in his mid to late 50’s. The energy and happiness that the picture radiated actually made me smile and almost laugh. He looked like a man that thoroughly enjoyed life.

We made our way into the sizeable sanctuary, which was packed.

It was obvious that Jack had a huge following. We headed towards the back where we stood against the wall behind all the occupied seats.

Two older gentleman had offered up their seats to us, which we declined.

They obviously were more seat-worthy, than me, anyway.

After all, they knew Jack.

I knew absolutely no one, with the exception of my friend.

This, for me, was a funeral of a stranger. I, most certainly, could stand.

From the moment we arrived in the lobby, there was something different from past funeral services I had attended. Now, I do realize that not knowing the deceased probably puts me in a somewhat apathetic type of category anyway, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

The overall “mood,” the somber tone that overcomes you when you first enter into the doors of a funeral- it just wasn’t there.

It was actually, quite the contrary.

There was noticeable, well… happiness.

I looked around getting an evaluation of each person within my view. No one, except my friend, was crying. I gave her a hug.

Seeing my friend upset, one of the older gentlemen insisted on giving up his seat to her.

The volume of the mix of conversations was elevated to a level much comparable to that of an intermission of a theater play most enjoyed by it’s patrons. There were smiles and laughter, replacing the sobbing tears and dramatic embraces I was accustomed to.

This WAS the funeral, right?

Of course it was, I had Jack’s memorial program in my hand.

The Pastor of the church made his way to the large raised staging area.

The crowd immediately went silent.

He stood in front of a mass number of musical instruments. There were multiple electric guitars, basses and amps, a full-size piano, and an immensely large acoustic drum set. The speakers looked as if they had the capability to probably blast you right out of the building. My son and husband (who are musicians) would go MENTAL if they saw this set up!

The Pastor began to speak.

He thanked everyone for coming and spoke a little about Jack.

The first song was then performed. It was a beautifully sung gospel hymn accompanied by the piano and a guitar. The young girl who sang literally had the voice of an angel, but yet, could definitely belt it out when she needed to. Phenomenal singer for sure, and come-to-find-out, she was Jack’s twenty-something- year- old daughter.

I couldn’t even SPEAK at either of my parent’s funerals! WOW!!!

Others, lots, got up and spoke about Jack, sharing stories of his kindness, generosity, and love for his family, friends and his Lord and Savior, Jesus.

Jack was indeed the man that his picture portrayed. He had a family which he loved and who loved him, and he had lots of friends and co-workers who adored him. The stories were proof of that.

He was a ‘people person,’ they said, and could make friends at the drop of a hat. That was obvious by the crowd that was present.

He did a great deal for his church and his community. The Pastor said he always put other’s needs before his own. They said he truly had a servant’s heart.

Scripture was read, mostly some of Jack’s favorite passages.

More musicians joined the stage including multiple guitarists and bassists.  Trumpets and saxes appeared, along with a choir and a drummer that wizardly mastered each and every one of the drums that surrounded him.

Hymns that praised the Lord blared through the speakers and were echoed out of the building and could probably be heard for blocks down the road and possibly even straight up to Jack himself, I imagine.

There was hand clapping. There was foot tapping. There was dancing in the isles!

It continued this way, song after song. The whole house was praising the Lord and jubilating that Jack had made it to his Heavenly home!!!

This was undoubtedly THE most rockin’-est funeral, (possibly the most rockin’-est event held within the walls of a church), that I had ever been to!

I seriously didn’t want it to end!

Soon, it was time to line up and see the family.

It was our turn.

My friend had explained that she once worked with Jack. His wife, sons and daughters all eagerly hugged her and thanked her for coming.

And then, all eyes shifted to me-

Crap. Frantically searching for my rehearsed words from the car ride over, my mind went blank!

“I’m her friend…. She didn’t want to come alone… so I came with her… I hope that was ok??”

Jack’s wife scooped me up in an unexpected hug,

“Of course that’s okay!” and she thanked me.

I also told her it was the most kickin’est funeral that I had ever been to, in more ways than one! She laughed.

You see, Jack was a Christian.

And his friends and family knew that.

While they would certainly miss him here on earth, they were truly rejoicing that he had made it into Heaven and into the arms of the One that sacrificed everything for him- and for all of us.

Indeed, an event worth rockin’ out to!

It was a true celebration of his life and an amazing “send off” as he entered into the gates of Heaven with his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for all Eternity.

I could only hope for such a glorification at my demise!

Leaving the funeral that day got me thinking about my life and what’s really important: The people God has entrusted me with, the purpose He has for me here on earth, and the very short time He has given me to achieve that very purpose.

To make the most out of life.

Sounds like Jack did.

And although, that morning, I had no personal connection to the deceased,

by the time I left, I had gotten a good and genuine glimpse into his life that, in turn, made me

re-evaluate my own.

I entered into that church attending the funeral of a stranger,

but left with a greater sense of what life and legacy really is all about.

I’m thinking, that would have probably made Jack smile,

just like in his picture.