I’m watching the episode of The Waltons where the Baptist preacher confesses to John Walton that he has never officiated at a funeral before. G.W. has died at Fort Lee in a training accident. He is brought home to be laid to rest by his parents.

This makes me think of the first funeral at which I was asked to officiate. Licensed and ordained ministers have had this duty thrust upon them since the first person died. If you have never had to perform this function for someone you knew, it would be hard for me to tell you how it feels.

I studied to be a minister at Southwest Baptist College in Bolivar, Missouri. None of the classes I had were designed to prepare us for weddings or funerals. Those were covered in the counseling courses I did not feel led to take.

My first wedding was a few months after I graduated from college. The couple was friends of mine that I worked with. My Pastor and friend advised me on what to say and how to conduct the service. Years later when my cousin asked me to help with his mother’s funeral, I felt more experienced to handle that on my own.

Because this was a funeral that would mostly be attended by family members, I decided to focus on family relationships. I read a portion of a poem written by another aunt. I told stories from my cousins and their children. Humor was not inserted into the stories. Many of them did have funny endings.

My one worry was that others would be offended by how I was honoring a family member’s life. Stories that I told might seem humorous or inspirational to me. Would others view them as they were meant to be interpreted?

I wrote about my dad for his funeral and could not read it myself. When Mom died, I was the only speaker. She had not asked me to do that. When my sister, brothers, and myself were planning her funeral I told the others that I would do the eulogy. My oldest daughter wrote her obituary. I asked a cousin to be ready to read what I had written if I was unable to finish it. He was relieved when I finished.

 I’ve participated in a few funerals where I only read the stories of the family members. Our lives can be broken down into stories. When I wrote my memoir, “Doulos”, it was to tell my family who I was and how the Lord had led me to be the person I am. Don’t wait for your life to be told after you die. Now is the time to tell it yourself. Stay tuned for my book, “Your story, Your way.” In it, I discuss the different methods that can be used to record and present what your family needs to remember about you.

©Copyright 2022 by Charles Kensinger