It's Over - For Now
I guess this will be the last post to this blog - and this last post will be a long one, recounting the days up until her burial.
I intend to leave the blog up as long as Blogger.com will allow it to stand as a tribute to the most remarkable, finest woman that ever lived. And, no, I'm not biased at all when I write that.
On Wednesday after Mee Maw died, the four sons and their wives met together to arrange the funeral and plan the order of service. They involved a number of us grandchildren and some of the great-grandchildren. The eight grandsons were asked to be pallbearers, just as they were at our grandfather's funeral in 1988. I was asked to get with the other seven guys and sing the hymn "Near To The Heart Of God" during the service, another repeat from the funeral of our Paw Paw.
I looked in the hymnal and quickly realized that the hymn, as written there, was not well-suited to a chorus of male voices. So I determined that I would try to write a quick arrangement of the song for us to sing. I have a piano keyboard hooked to my computer and a copy of music notation software, so I was set.
After church on Wednesday night I played with the keyboard and developed a few ideas. Thursday evening I planned to start the notation process, but I had to drive to Birmingham to pick up our oldest son, who was being dropped off there by a friend. Friday evening gave me a good opportunity, and I planned to finish on Saturday morning.
Saturday morning brought thunderstorms. I am not going to turn on a computer while lightning is striking nearby and the electrical power is flickering. But by 11:30 the skies were clearing, and I hurriedly finished my work before going to my parents for a meal that our church, Cornerstone Baptist, had supplied.
The visitation at the funeral home was to be from 6:00 to 8:00 on Saturday evening. The family was to arrive by 5:30. I got there at about 5:20, and only my uncle James and aunt Roni were there. I had not seen Mee Maw in her casket, and the sight caused the first rush of tears of the evening. She was dressed in the blue dress that she is wearing for the photo at the top of the blog. The original dress that she had asked to wear would not look right because of the condition of her arms and skin.
The flowers were gorgeous. Almost all of the arrangements had soft pastel colors. There were a lot of roses, both red and yellow. There were mums, hydrangeas, snapdragons, lilies, orchids, and a bunch more that I did not recognize and probably could not spell properly if I did. There were also several pots of green plants, which were distributed among family members later.
At 5:30, people were already starting to line up outside and make their way into the chapel at the funeral home. There were people that I have not seen in many years, at least since the last tragedy or funeral. We renewed acquaintances and caught up on family matters, but the subject always returned to the reason that we were there. And to a person everyone commented on what a godly inspiration my grandmother was to them and their families for so long.
Things began to taper off after 7:30, so I assembled the other grandsons and we went into the director's office to practice. I think we sang through the arrangement about six times and felt comfortable enough to say that it would work. A couple of people heard it and declared that it sounded great.
Then came the dreaded day: Sunday, July 23rd. My brother-in-law could not preach in his own church in Mississippi, so he agreed to teach my Sunday School class for me. Good thing, too, for all the time I would have used for study had been taken with the music. He also agreed to preach the morning sermon. He mentioned that he had prepared earlier in the week, thinking that the service would be on Saturday, which is his study day. God worked out the schedule so I got to do my music and he got to preach his sermons!
Our service went OK until the offertory. My youngest sister's daughter Kate played the piano, and my other sister's daughter Hannah played the violin. The song they played was "What A Friend We Have In Jesus", which was one of Mee Maw's favorite hymns. Near the end Hannah hit a sour note. I would be lying if I said that I could not see Mee Maw close her eyes and wince as she did every time that a major musical mistake happened. When I mentioned after they finished that it was a favorite song of Mee Maw's, I broke down momentarily. After I read the morning Scripture passage, I led the final congregational song, "Children Of The Heavenly Father". The first line reads, "Children of the Heavenly Father Safely in His bosom gather", and I was unable to sing properly after that line. My wife had to leave the room in tears, for that is one of her favorites also.
After a quick sandwich lunch provided by Faith Baptist Church, we went to the funeral home. I was then instructed that I was also to lead the congregation in singing two verses of "It Is Well With My Soul". The reason, which I was supposed to say intelligibly somehow, was that Mee Maw remembered that song being sung at her mother's funeral when she was only 6 years old (92 years earlier!) and she had always firmly said that it was to be sung at her funeral as well.
The service began with Scott Matthews (Joel's son, Ralph's grandson), Jonathan Grant (the late Judith's son, another of Ralph's grandsons) and Hannah Sculley (Lynette's daughter, Ernest's granddaughter) playing a violin trio of "Sweet Hour Of Prayer". Then Paul Stowe, who is our pastor and school administrator at Cornerstone, where Mee Maw attended, read her obituary and, in his own humorous way, paid tribute. He was the first speaker, and he was the first to choke up.
Daniel, James' son and the youngest of the grandchildren, then got up to read Scripture passages that were dear to Mee Maw. He had a few wonderful comments, and he also had difficulty at times speaking without tears. It was all the more special knowing that he and his wife Solita had just announced that the next great-grandchild was on the way, due in February of 2007. This one will never know his or her great-grandmother. Nor will any others that follow.
Next came the "Pallbearer Chorus", as we jokingly called ourselves. We filed into position and I gave the starting note with a pitch pipe. I honestly do not think that we missed a note. From my position singing at the end of the line it sounded great. Those listening in the audience told me later that it was extremely well-done. I assume they mean the performance, not the arranging. I thank God that he allowed me to do that as a tribute to Mee Maw.
My brother-in-law Donald, Lynette's husband, preached the message. In his down-home south Georgia way he opened the Bible and used Mee Maw's example to remind us of why we were there and why we "sorrow not even as others which have no hope" (1 Thess. 4:13). He, too, had his difficult moments.
My cousin Tim then got up and told Mee Maw's testimony of how she came to trust in Jesus Christ after trusting in baptism and church membership since she had been 12 years old. Tim then gave an invitation to those attending that if they did not know Christ as Mee Maw did, it would be a good time to come to Him. His voice broke momentarily, too.
I arose at that point and led the congregational song. I was OK until the last few words of my introduction, when I, too, succumbed to the emotion. The assembled people sang beautifully.
Tim then closed the service in prayer. We stood and waited for a while, and finally the funeral director and the attendants came in. He had been trying to start a CD that Joel had recorded with a couple of organ arrangements that Mee Maw loved, but the disk would not play properly. We had not thought ahead enough to check it out before the service.
The pallbearers lined up and transferred the casket to the hearse. We then loaded all of the flowers into a van, which sped off ahead to the cemetery. We waited almost 20 minutes for our police escort, which was late because of another funeral across town. Once they arrived, we drove to Roselawn Cemetery. My brother Philip and I drove the pallbearers in our own vehicles, preceding the hearse.
When we arrived, we removed the casket from the hearse. We had a momentary glitch when we had the casket in hand and were told to turn around. We were expecting to go to the grave with her head first, but the way that the plot was oriented she needed to go feet-first at this point. So we all had to change hands and move slowly to the grave and place the casket on the rails.
Tim did the graveside service. It was there that he broke down. There were few dry eyes among the family at that point. Tim had me pull out the pitch pipe and give a note, and all present sang all four well-known verses of "Amazing Grace". I found it extremely hard to sing at all, as did several around me. The sound was still beautiful.
The service closed, and everyone slowly left. My family and brother and sisters walked over to the grave site of my mother's parents and paid respects there. When we returned, we all picked flowers from the blanket on the casket and from the arrangements that were lying on the ground, wilting in the hot summer sun. My family was the last to leave. We watched as the vault was closed and then lowered into the ground next to the remains of her husband, Arthur Matthews. Several tossed flowers into the hole, turned, and left. I stood for a last look, and I very carefully deposited a single yellow rose on the top center of the vault. Wiping tears from beneath my sunglasses, I turned and walked back to my vehicle and left.
Boy, does it hurt. There is an emptiness inside that can never be filled. I can scarcely imaging what my father and his brothers must be feeling right now. She was mine for 48 years. She was theirs for 70. Now she is gone.
But as my cousin reminded us all, it was not a "goodbye". It is only a "good night". Someday, in the presence of God and the Lord Jesus Christ whom she loved so much, I will see her mischievous grin again. I will see the twinkle in her eye, so noticable in the photo on this page. I will hear her chuckle at a pun (will there be any bad puns in heaven?). I will feel her scratch my back again with her strong fingers. I will hear her say, "I've loved you for a long time, and I still love you now" as she would frequently say. Most of all, I will be able to fall at the feet of a loving God and thank him for giving me such a wonderful grandmother, a legacy of godliness and virtue, and I will praise Him for infinite wisdom and goodness in allowing so many to be affected by her life.
Good night, Mee Maw. We will see you in the "morning", either when we die and join you, or when Jesus Christ comes back and brings you with Him.
Good night.
I love you.
I intend to leave the blog up as long as Blogger.com will allow it to stand as a tribute to the most remarkable, finest woman that ever lived. And, no, I'm not biased at all when I write that.
On Wednesday after Mee Maw died, the four sons and their wives met together to arrange the funeral and plan the order of service. They involved a number of us grandchildren and some of the great-grandchildren. The eight grandsons were asked to be pallbearers, just as they were at our grandfather's funeral in 1988. I was asked to get with the other seven guys and sing the hymn "Near To The Heart Of God" during the service, another repeat from the funeral of our Paw Paw.
I looked in the hymnal and quickly realized that the hymn, as written there, was not well-suited to a chorus of male voices. So I determined that I would try to write a quick arrangement of the song for us to sing. I have a piano keyboard hooked to my computer and a copy of music notation software, so I was set.
After church on Wednesday night I played with the keyboard and developed a few ideas. Thursday evening I planned to start the notation process, but I had to drive to Birmingham to pick up our oldest son, who was being dropped off there by a friend. Friday evening gave me a good opportunity, and I planned to finish on Saturday morning.
Saturday morning brought thunderstorms. I am not going to turn on a computer while lightning is striking nearby and the electrical power is flickering. But by 11:30 the skies were clearing, and I hurriedly finished my work before going to my parents for a meal that our church, Cornerstone Baptist, had supplied.
The visitation at the funeral home was to be from 6:00 to 8:00 on Saturday evening. The family was to arrive by 5:30. I got there at about 5:20, and only my uncle James and aunt Roni were there. I had not seen Mee Maw in her casket, and the sight caused the first rush of tears of the evening. She was dressed in the blue dress that she is wearing for the photo at the top of the blog. The original dress that she had asked to wear would not look right because of the condition of her arms and skin.
The flowers were gorgeous. Almost all of the arrangements had soft pastel colors. There were a lot of roses, both red and yellow. There were mums, hydrangeas, snapdragons, lilies, orchids, and a bunch more that I did not recognize and probably could not spell properly if I did. There were also several pots of green plants, which were distributed among family members later.
At 5:30, people were already starting to line up outside and make their way into the chapel at the funeral home. There were people that I have not seen in many years, at least since the last tragedy or funeral. We renewed acquaintances and caught up on family matters, but the subject always returned to the reason that we were there. And to a person everyone commented on what a godly inspiration my grandmother was to them and their families for so long.
Things began to taper off after 7:30, so I assembled the other grandsons and we went into the director's office to practice. I think we sang through the arrangement about six times and felt comfortable enough to say that it would work. A couple of people heard it and declared that it sounded great.
Then came the dreaded day: Sunday, July 23rd. My brother-in-law could not preach in his own church in Mississippi, so he agreed to teach my Sunday School class for me. Good thing, too, for all the time I would have used for study had been taken with the music. He also agreed to preach the morning sermon. He mentioned that he had prepared earlier in the week, thinking that the service would be on Saturday, which is his study day. God worked out the schedule so I got to do my music and he got to preach his sermons!
Our service went OK until the offertory. My youngest sister's daughter Kate played the piano, and my other sister's daughter Hannah played the violin. The song they played was "What A Friend We Have In Jesus", which was one of Mee Maw's favorite hymns. Near the end Hannah hit a sour note. I would be lying if I said that I could not see Mee Maw close her eyes and wince as she did every time that a major musical mistake happened. When I mentioned after they finished that it was a favorite song of Mee Maw's, I broke down momentarily. After I read the morning Scripture passage, I led the final congregational song, "Children Of The Heavenly Father". The first line reads, "Children of the Heavenly Father Safely in His bosom gather", and I was unable to sing properly after that line. My wife had to leave the room in tears, for that is one of her favorites also.
After a quick sandwich lunch provided by Faith Baptist Church, we went to the funeral home. I was then instructed that I was also to lead the congregation in singing two verses of "It Is Well With My Soul". The reason, which I was supposed to say intelligibly somehow, was that Mee Maw remembered that song being sung at her mother's funeral when she was only 6 years old (92 years earlier!) and she had always firmly said that it was to be sung at her funeral as well.
The service began with Scott Matthews (Joel's son, Ralph's grandson), Jonathan Grant (the late Judith's son, another of Ralph's grandsons) and Hannah Sculley (Lynette's daughter, Ernest's granddaughter) playing a violin trio of "Sweet Hour Of Prayer". Then Paul Stowe, who is our pastor and school administrator at Cornerstone, where Mee Maw attended, read her obituary and, in his own humorous way, paid tribute. He was the first speaker, and he was the first to choke up.
Daniel, James' son and the youngest of the grandchildren, then got up to read Scripture passages that were dear to Mee Maw. He had a few wonderful comments, and he also had difficulty at times speaking without tears. It was all the more special knowing that he and his wife Solita had just announced that the next great-grandchild was on the way, due in February of 2007. This one will never know his or her great-grandmother. Nor will any others that follow.
Next came the "Pallbearer Chorus", as we jokingly called ourselves. We filed into position and I gave the starting note with a pitch pipe. I honestly do not think that we missed a note. From my position singing at the end of the line it sounded great. Those listening in the audience told me later that it was extremely well-done. I assume they mean the performance, not the arranging. I thank God that he allowed me to do that as a tribute to Mee Maw.
My brother-in-law Donald, Lynette's husband, preached the message. In his down-home south Georgia way he opened the Bible and used Mee Maw's example to remind us of why we were there and why we "sorrow not even as others which have no hope" (1 Thess. 4:13). He, too, had his difficult moments.
My cousin Tim then got up and told Mee Maw's testimony of how she came to trust in Jesus Christ after trusting in baptism and church membership since she had been 12 years old. Tim then gave an invitation to those attending that if they did not know Christ as Mee Maw did, it would be a good time to come to Him. His voice broke momentarily, too.
I arose at that point and led the congregational song. I was OK until the last few words of my introduction, when I, too, succumbed to the emotion. The assembled people sang beautifully.
Tim then closed the service in prayer. We stood and waited for a while, and finally the funeral director and the attendants came in. He had been trying to start a CD that Joel had recorded with a couple of organ arrangements that Mee Maw loved, but the disk would not play properly. We had not thought ahead enough to check it out before the service.
The pallbearers lined up and transferred the casket to the hearse. We then loaded all of the flowers into a van, which sped off ahead to the cemetery. We waited almost 20 minutes for our police escort, which was late because of another funeral across town. Once they arrived, we drove to Roselawn Cemetery. My brother Philip and I drove the pallbearers in our own vehicles, preceding the hearse.
When we arrived, we removed the casket from the hearse. We had a momentary glitch when we had the casket in hand and were told to turn around. We were expecting to go to the grave with her head first, but the way that the plot was oriented she needed to go feet-first at this point. So we all had to change hands and move slowly to the grave and place the casket on the rails.
Tim did the graveside service. It was there that he broke down. There were few dry eyes among the family at that point. Tim had me pull out the pitch pipe and give a note, and all present sang all four well-known verses of "Amazing Grace". I found it extremely hard to sing at all, as did several around me. The sound was still beautiful.
The service closed, and everyone slowly left. My family and brother and sisters walked over to the grave site of my mother's parents and paid respects there. When we returned, we all picked flowers from the blanket on the casket and from the arrangements that were lying on the ground, wilting in the hot summer sun. My family was the last to leave. We watched as the vault was closed and then lowered into the ground next to the remains of her husband, Arthur Matthews. Several tossed flowers into the hole, turned, and left. I stood for a last look, and I very carefully deposited a single yellow rose on the top center of the vault. Wiping tears from beneath my sunglasses, I turned and walked back to my vehicle and left.
Boy, does it hurt. There is an emptiness inside that can never be filled. I can scarcely imaging what my father and his brothers must be feeling right now. She was mine for 48 years. She was theirs for 70. Now she is gone.
But as my cousin reminded us all, it was not a "goodbye". It is only a "good night". Someday, in the presence of God and the Lord Jesus Christ whom she loved so much, I will see her mischievous grin again. I will see the twinkle in her eye, so noticable in the photo on this page. I will hear her chuckle at a pun (will there be any bad puns in heaven?). I will feel her scratch my back again with her strong fingers. I will hear her say, "I've loved you for a long time, and I still love you now" as she would frequently say. Most of all, I will be able to fall at the feet of a loving God and thank him for giving me such a wonderful grandmother, a legacy of godliness and virtue, and I will praise Him for infinite wisdom and goodness in allowing so many to be affected by her life.
Good night, Mee Maw. We will see you in the "morning", either when we die and join you, or when Jesus Christ comes back and brings you with Him.
Good night.
I love you.
posted by Richard | 9:15 PM
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