I officiated at a funeral yesterday. Our friend Sarah’s grandmother. And yes, it was right in the middle of the little Tropical Storm that just happened to be passing by.
Other than the rain, I didn’t have any problems getting to the funeral home. It was up in Texas, though, so I had to cross the causeway. Didn’t look forward to that.
The service got started right on time. I even found an appropriate place to include my favorite quote from Grandma Jean, as recorded in the obituary that Sarah wrote: “If people would only use their damn common sense.”
So … during the service all was going smoothly … until … the wind started picking up (the rain was gone). The door to the outside nearest the hearse started opening. Just a tad, then closed again. The first time I just acknowledged it as the affirmation of the wind, an “Amen,” if you will, and kept going. After the second and third times, a guy on the front row (one of the family) finally got up and pulled it to. Whew. Crisis averted. Well, crisis one, anyway.
On the way to the cemetery, we had to travel on the freeway for a time. As we began a lane change, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a car coming up behind us - quickly. The police escorts had stopped traffic in front of him, but he apparently missed the memo communicated with blinking lights and headlights and three separate police vehicles with lights flashing.
Just as I began to ease over, he whipped around the stopped vehicle, briefly entered our lane, then swerved back to the fast lane - just in time to see the police vehicle looming ahead of him. He managed to get stopped, but I think he might need to check his brakes soon. Crisis two - check.
Once at the gravesite, things really picked up. Well, the wind did, anyway. You know those big tents-on-wheels they place over the casket and chairs? Just as the pall bearers reached to pull the casket from the hearse, a gust of wind swirled through and actually moved the tent about six feet, leaving the table for the casket uncovered.
You never saw four suit-and-tie-clad cemetery and funeral home guys leap into action so quickly. They stabilized the tent before it could move any further. We just left it there and continued with the graveside service before anything else could fly by (there was another tent - unsupervised - about a hundred yards away). Crisis three - check.
If this were my grandmother’s funeral, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was looking down on old Tropical Storm Arthur and laughing uproariously. What do you think, Sarah?
Now, TS Arthur didn’t stop there. On the way home I had to ease over to the one lane open. Seems one of the overhead traffic signs was in the process of falling over. Emergency vehicles were on site, preparing to enact repairs. Crisis four - check.
That should have been enough for the approaching storm. (Yes, it hadn’t even arrived yet. These were just the outer bands). But when I got home (By the way, thanks,Lauren, for the barbecue and frozen meals and cookies), I was greeted by an array of downed sycamore tree branches. I did my best to stack them at the street. And once inside, Chris pointed my attention to the backyard.
Yep. The barbecue grill was on its side, teetering on the arm of one of the patio chairs, which had also been blown to its side. The patio cushions were askew, tossed about the yard. And one of the really heavy plants in a big ol’ pot full of dirt on top of one of those roller pot holders had made its way across the deck landing. At least it was still upright. Also, the sunflowers that loomed taller than the roof were now looking up at us from about six inches off the ground.
I managed to upright all the furniture and recover the cushions. Left that big pot and the sunflowers alone, though. Crisis five - check.
That all you got, TS Arthur?
John 15:12 says, This is My command: Love one another as I have loved you.
Father, walk with Sarah and her family through this tough time. Thanks for the break in the wet weather for the graveside. And bless Lauren for thinking of us with some food. Amen.
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