It was a dark and rainy afternoon; everything you don't want when attending a funeral. Our hearts were already heavy as we mourned our dear friend so perhaps we were a bit more sensitive to the booming claps of thunder. The rain was so hard there was no escaping getting wet.
We shuffled in to the Funeral Home -- hastily made ready for our arrival. After getting settled in our seats, we noticed several men in uniform lining up as they prepared to take part in the service.
In the front of the line stood a particularly aged gentleman. He didn't seem to fit in with the other younger men, standing tall and proud in their clean, crisp uniforms. He was a little stooped over and each step was labored and difficult. We assumed he was connected to the family in some way, thus allowing him the honor of leading the Color Guard.
I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye so I sat up straighter, readying myself for this sacred time about to begin as we honored our dear friend. The elderly gentleman in front of the line started making his way across the front of the crowded chapel, his attention honed in on the widow. I found I could not remove my sight from him. It seemed each step was so very painful, as if walking on a bed of crushed glass. And yet, despite the effort and pain it was taking, he was clearly focused on his destination.
Most everyone in their seats were completely drawn in to the journey of the elderly man. Our attention was drawn back, however, to the men lined up off to the side at the entrance door to the Chapel. The gentleman in the front of the line half-whispered, half-yelled, "Earl!"
Earl did not appear to hear him as he continued his steadfast journey across the front of the Chapel. It felt as if we were at a tennis match as our heads turned left and then right, back and forth and back and forth. "EARL!!!" -- his name was called with a growing sense of frustration. Earl made his way steadily toward the family, inching closer and closer with each painful step. Earl had no clue he was being summoned. And yet the man off to the side continued to half-whisper, half-yell his name over and over and over and over again.
The poor young man's frustration toward Earl was so evident. His face was red, his breath coming in short, stabbing gasps. In the meantime Earl finally made it to his destination. He leaned over the widow -- the frantic young man on the other side of the chapel throwing his hands in the air and muttering -- though it was more of a restrained yell. He was fed up with it all.
Earl finished presenting the flag to the widow and then stood as tall and straight as his tired body would allow. He waited for the Color Guard to cross the front of the chapel. As they neared where he stood, Earl made his way in with the Color Guard while the young man who had tried to get his attention glared at him. They all then proceeded to march out and in to a small side room off the chapel. Not long after the door closed we heard the clear, jolting sound of a shotgun.
My friend leaned over to me and whispered, "I think they just got Earl."
The laughter swelling up in me was so strong, I sunk down in my seat, hoping my shaking shoulders would not give me away. I realized fairly quickly I was not alone as I heard others around me trying desperately hard not to laugh out loud.
It seemed an eternity before the minister stepped up to the pulpit to begin the service. I felt rather than heard a collective sigh of relief. All those gathered then proceeded to worship and celebrate the life and accomplishments of our dear friend.
Now -- #1 Yes, this really did happen #2 No, I did not include anyone's real name -- especially "Earl."
Life is pretty much the same as the events that took place that day.
We start out to do one thing only to find we have to side-step to another. As I remember the events of that day so long ago I have to ask myself if it really matters. I mean, as long as we are productive and accomplish the "important" things.
This reminds me of the saying, "don't sweat the small stuff. It's all small stuff."
We seem to forget that.
Is it really earth-shattering when we get cut off on the road? Do we really need to go in to fits of rage?
If the waitress brings us the wrong order is it really the end of our lives as we know it? Is it such a horrible, unforgivable action that we should call her out and yell at her for ten minutes?
If the cashier seems to be moving too slow is it really so bad that we need to yell at her and embarrass her in front of others?
I think the answer is pretty clear -- at least I hope it is.
In the big picture of things I've decided I want to be more like Earl.
Enjoying the Journey,
Debra
bebprov356.blogspot.com
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your path straight.
-- Proverbs 3:5-6 --
