There are plenty of happy things to report about my trip to Northern California for my aunt’s funeral, but this post isn’t for that report.
This post is about the service, and the thoughts I had as I sat with fellow mourners. My cousin Cindie gave a wonderful eulogy, chronicling my aunt’s life and her loves. Two other cousins spoke briefly of memories of their mother and the challenges and joys of being raised by her. And then my second cousin (Cindie’s son) gave perhaps the best talk I have ever heard at a funeral. It was perfectly balanced with humor, grief, and the hope of the Gospel.
As he shared examples of how my aunt lived the principles of faith, hope, and charity, the lyrics of a Cherie Call song came to my mind:
I know that I can never say
That I’m the only one who’s prayed for pain to end
Or love to last, or for time not to go by so fast–
It will fly and in a hundred years from now
Will there ever be someone who reads my name and wonders if I laughed
Or if I believed in Jesus,
Or if my heart were ever broken.
They may never understand what I go through,
But I will live the best that I know how
For one big lifetime
It’s not too much to ask of one good woman.
I never have to wonder any of those things about my aunt Joanne. I’ve seen her laugh a million times. I know she believed in Jesus–even if she had never told me directly the story of how she came to that belief, her life told me that. I know her heart had been broken, and that she rose above it. She was definitely one good woman.
And as I sat there thinking of those lyrics, I thought of all the good women in my life. My mother, my grandmothers, my aunts, my cousins, my sisters, my single friends, my married friends, my colleagues. My whole life I’ve been surrounded by good women who’ve inspired me to live my life better than I could have figured out on my own.
Some people might write off the blogging community as nothing more than treacly, hyper-sentimental, meaningless daily musings from people who carry no importance in the eyes of “men,” whoever “men” are. But blogging is our generation’s journals and letters. True, most journals and letters were not written for a global audience, but the outcome can be the same.
My nieces will be able to read my blog and know I that I laugh, believe in Jesus, and if they ask me, I will tell them about all the times my heart has been broken. And I hope I can be one more example in their lives of a life well-lived, by one good woman.