Monday, August 22, 2011


And I'm home.

I've actually been home for just over 24 hours now. The funeral service for my father-in-law went as well as could be expected. The church where it was held was very gracious. It was well attended. We had enough cookies and brownies and whatnot to help supply their coffee hour for the next four weeks. And I met a lapsed Catholic who was making noises about coming back to the Episcopal church. The sermon was passable, not stellar, but passable.

And then I got in my car and drove. And drove. And drove. And drove. And drove. And ten hours later I pulled into the driveway.

Regular services today, a nap, a football meeting, and I'm glad to be home.


Anonymous | 8:32 PM, August 22, 2011  

Funeral sermons are always rough. The best one I ever heard was when my dad preached at his mother's funeral on Matthew 25:31-40. I hope I can live the kind of life that somebody will use that text my my funeral.

The worst one was at an un-air conditioned Baptist church in July. The sermon alone went on for over an hour. I no longer fear Hell.

Somehow the drive home always seems to be so much longer, especially when you are leaving behind loved ones. Hugs to you all.

Lady Anne

Reverend Ref + | 12:56 AM, August 23, 2011  


I too have a hellish Baptist-funeral story. The officiant was a lay person from the congregation (they were between pastors) who treated the event like the Phil Donahue show and wasn't going to be satisfied until everyone in attendance had talked about the deceased.

And then he launched into his own version of a turn-or-burn sermon. Oy.

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