The Funeral Planner

In days gone by, I used to go to school. "Go to" being the operative words in the statement, but we'll worry about that another day. Anyhow, I had three delightful friends, all of whom I've almost entirely lost touch with since those days. Life comes at you fast.

Anyhow, one late evening we young ladies were discussing the ins and outs of our future lives. One young lady, named Chrissy, was supposedly looking for "James from British" on a map, and could never find him. I'm pretty sure, in this highly preposterous story we were making up, that she died from lack of food and water, so intense was her search for this place named "British" on the globe. For those who are confused, I actually have a slide show explaining the story in all its glory, should you care for a gander.

The point of this little tale is that I decided (uh, "decided" being the operative word) that my lot in life was to become... The Funeral Planner. Actually, I'm not going to lie, I'd still like to have that job--go visit terminally ill children, chat with them about their likes and dislikes, get a feel for their parents, figure out a funeral fitting for a child (you know, balloons, candy, Bible verses read by best friends instead of pastors, that sort of thing) and then be responsible for organizing it once their sickness has gotten the best of them. It may sound morbid, but it actually sounds like a job I'd like.

Moving on, however, to the fact that I tend to think about funerals a bit much. I don't entirely have the details for mine down yet (I'm getting there) but I actually do ponder it sometimes. Well, not a lot, since I figure the rapture will have long since happened by the time a regular person would have needed a funeral, so it's more like a little thing I sometimes wonder about.

For instance, my funeral can't be boring. Nobody likes a boring funeral. If that ol' speaker rambles on for even one moment about the funeral of their own dearly departed mother (who is known to none in the audience), then he has failed, and someone should tackle him. My funeral should be about, I don't know, the Lord? That's what I'm thinking. If they're talking about me, it should be in a sort of off-handed "isn't it great that Joanne loved the Lord and was saved?" type of way. If they want to tell precious little stories about how one time I picked up someone's hankie with a smile on my face, fine. But really? It's not about me, people, it's about the One who made me. And happened to graciously welcome me into His Home, even though I really wanted to be raptured instead.

Stipulation number two. No congregational singing. I mean, seriously, none. I've been to only one funeral where that worked out well, and they had instruments, so it hardly counted. But if it has to be done, sing at the graveside, but not in the funeral home, please. I'd like for random friends to sing, if songs are needed. If there has to be a congregational singing of "Praise Him for all that is past, and trust Him for all that's to come" for the sake of my mother, that's fine, but only because I love my mom a lot. Otherwise, friends of mine who are good singers may sing. Oh, and a friend who's not such a good singer, because I promised her. But only if she really wants to, otherwise I'll spare the excessive singing.

I want an open casket. Unless I've died a vicious death that included animal paws or very large vehicles, I figure my face can handle it. I don't like closed-casket funerals. Weird, I know.

At the visiting hours, I want background music playing. Not boring type, but nothing crazy. Like... that Chris Rice CD with piano hymns? That's a good one. No classical music, though.

I want my friends to have a say in who my pall-bearers should be. My brother is an obvious shoo-in, but my parents and friends should confer and decide who the others should be. I think a lot of times random people are selected. So not cool, people, we're talking about a dead body in a wooden box--only special people should get to carry that!

I liked the open-mic format they had at my brother's, however, if anybody were to do that at mine, we'd need a larger funeral home. I'm just saying.

There are more things, but I just realized that in light of all the funerals that have been going on recently, this most likely isn't the appropriate time to be sharing this with the world. Guess the rest of my funeral plans will have to stay hidden away in my stash of papers. I didn't even get to whom or what I wanted my in-lieu-of money to be donated. So many things that the rapture will preserve us from having to figure out. Isn't that a joy?