A Stranger's Funeral

Recently, I sang at a stranger's funeral.

This woman, Grace Hansen, passed away. Her family attends my church & wanted a nice touch to the funeral Monday morning, so they asked me to sing & I happily obliged. This wasn't very strange since I've been asked to sing at random events by random strangers before: a few weddings, a memorial service, someone's birthday party (weird). However, I've never been asked to sing at an actual funeral before, especially by a family who I'm not very close with. In fact, I don't think I've ever really met them before this week.

Monday Morning.

Attending a funeral brings up all kinds of questions, especially the question of what to wear. After sifting through my closet a hundred times & failing to find something new, I settled on a black & white "number" that I haven't worn for a while. Strange how one event can cause so many wardrobe changes (this is true for weddings, first dates, Graduation, etc).

I arrived at church about 2 hours before the funeral started, just to make sure I had time to practice, set up my microphone & spiritually & emotionally prepare myself. The last time I had been to a funeral was January, 1994.

My Grandpa died.

It was sad.

What I had not realized while walking into the Sanctuary that day was that funerals generally have dead bodies present. So, here I am, walking sprightly into the room like it was Sunday morning. I quickly found myself face-to-face with a cold Mrs. Hansen and halted abruptly in my steady pace.

I freaked out.

My pastor caught me off-guard & I quickly exited the room, explaining the urgent need for a coffee run.

I went to Starbucks & stayed there for about an hour. No book. No list of phone calls I needed to make. Just me & my thoughts of Grace Hansen taking an eternal nap in the front of my church. I finally mustered up the courage to head back. Specifically because the service was to start in 15 minutes. Fortunately, when I got back to church, Grace was tucked away in her casket, lid closed.

The Funeral.

When Grace Hansen was alive, we weren't friends. Even though she was a member of my congregation, her wry mind, battered with Alzheimer's, was not able to function outside of the Hospice she was living in. Her husband, Gene, sang the "Alleluia Chorus" with me this past Christmas & I was reminded of his Tenor voice as "Beautiful Savior" started to play on our synthetic, electric organ. He too, was a distant acquaintance whose face I barely recognized.

As the funeral service pressed on, & my discomfort of being in the same room as the deceased Mrs. Hansen drifted away, I felt like I was growing closer to the woman who was inside the Mahogany box in front of me. Grace was a mother, a sister, a wife & friend. She grew up in El Salvador & moved to the United States as a young, naive 16 year old. 1948 brought her American citizenship, only a few months after moving here. She met her husband, Gene at a dance & they were married only 2 months later. She left behind 4 beautiful children, 11 grandchildren & 17 great-grandchildren, most of whom will never know their great-grandmother.

The service held stories of years passed where Grace offered her children & grandchildren, neighbors & friends unconditional love that reflected that of Christ's. I sang "Amazing Grace" & "Jesus Loves Me", which left no dry eye untouched by tears.

As I sat in my chair, listening to story after story, I felt a pang of disappointment. This woman, Grace Hansen was the epitome of motherly love & devotion. She not only cared for her husband & family, but she lifted up their friends as well. Most of the people spoke of the Agape relationship she had with her husband, Gene, offering countless examples of what a true marriage looks like in a world where divorce is a commonality amongst most. She exuded the love of Christ to all who knew her, being confident in her identity in her Creator & passing that on to her children. Yet, I never knew her. Here I am, privileged enough to be invited to such an emotional, personal event, yet I had no personal relationship with her on this earth. Fortunately, I'll have eternity to get to know this amazing woman of God.

Life is Short.

Funerals & Weddings are very much the same. People dressed up for a special event. Music playing in the background of hushed whispers & quiet murmurs of people waiting for the service to start. Flowers for an occasion. A procession of family members & special friends. A ceremony that includes encouragement, comfort & stories. A light lunch. . . with cake.

What happens in the middle of the two? Wedding. Funeral. What do you fill your life with?

Making money. Building an Empire. Making babies. Building a family.

You blink & it's over.

Most of the decisions I make are less thought out & more emotionally driven, which produces countless "Kelsey, you should not have said or done thats!" and "If onlys. . ." Yes, I may have my foot eternally stuck in my mouth, but I would hate to have regrets. At my funeral, I don't want people to say, "If only. . ."

No regrets!

The question still remains: What will it look like?

Did Grace Hansen know she would move to America from El Salvador at 16? Did she know she would marry the man who would walk with her through Alzheimer's, until the end? How could she have imagined the amazing plans God had for her?

Same here.

From now until the end of my life, what will it look like? How will God use me? When my life is over, will countless people tell great stories of me at my funeral? Will I be remembered?

After sitting in on a stranger's funeral, I think so.