I really didn't want to take the call. It was very cold last night in Eagle, Pennsylvania. The sky remained a stubborn gray, although the rain hadn't fallen for a few hours.
In a vain attempt to stay warm, I was looping the Hickory Park trails as Mr. C was warming up with his pals. Having gotten into an easy run, I wasn't happy to slow down.
Dave sounded like a lot of funeral directors with whom I've worked -- a genuinely nice person. You just gotta get past the black suits and cars -- behind them are often folks who have grown up in the local community, and have many decades of mortuary science in their ancestry.
We chatted for a few moments about an elderly lady who has now gone out to meet her Lord and who was being interred in our churchyard. I never knew Mary (Polly), but a number of the older folks did, and will probably attend her memorial service at the retirement community. Lots of Joneses in the graveyard. Lots of Talbots. Some Montgomerys. And many other families that go back in the area for generations.
Then we talked business -- and the long view.
Without any pride, because I am so new to the church, I can say that St. Marks has one of the loveliest graveyards I've seen in a while.
Not to be ghoulish -- but do you have a place that you have already chosen for your final earthly rest?
When our Bishop Rodney Michel came by last week to pay a call, he recommended that we begin to actively let funeral homes and potential plotters know about the St. Marks churchyard. Many churches, apparently, make a good income out of selling graves and a place in the memorial garden to those who might not have what one might term a church home.
Come visit us.
In a vain attempt to stay warm, I was looping the Hickory Park trails as Mr. C was warming up with his pals. Having gotten into an easy run, I wasn't happy to slow down.
Dave sounded like a lot of funeral directors with whom I've worked -- a genuinely nice person. You just gotta get past the black suits and cars -- behind them are often folks who have grown up in the local community, and have many decades of mortuary science in their ancestry.
We chatted for a few moments about an elderly lady who has now gone out to meet her Lord and who was being interred in our churchyard. I never knew Mary (Polly), but a number of the older folks did, and will probably attend her memorial service at the retirement community. Lots of Joneses in the graveyard. Lots of Talbots. Some Montgomerys. And many other families that go back in the area for generations.
Then we talked business -- and the long view.
Without any pride, because I am so new to the church, I can say that St. Marks has one of the loveliest graveyards I've seen in a while.
Not to be ghoulish -- but do you have a place that you have already chosen for your final earthly rest?
When our Bishop Rodney Michel came by last week to pay a call, he recommended that we begin to actively let funeral homes and potential plotters know about the St. Marks churchyard. Many churches, apparently, make a good income out of selling graves and a place in the memorial garden to those who might not have what one might term a church home.
Come visit us.
Put your feet up.
And consider staying a while.
1 commentaire:
My dad wants to be cremated and his ashes spread in the ocean. Nicolas Cage just bought a pyramid in a New Orleans graveyard. As for me? I honestly have thought about it.
Have you read Augusten Burroughs' book "Dry"? His friend in the book is a mortician, and there are some funny moments pertaining to that.
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