My Second Cousin: "I did it my way!"

Cousin Robert and Earl in 2007

I attended the funeral of my second cousin, yesterday in Newton; as a child, I stayed with my cousin'sparents, Aunt Bessie and Uncle Ernest, for weeks at a time during the summer; I credit my time staying with my dear aunt and uncle as a real learning experience to me; I believe some of my work ethic was caught while staying on the farm with them. It was with this dear aunt and uncle that I lived with, when at 6 months old, my mother and I were travelling to see them on the farm and was involved in a car wreck; I was thrown out of the car along with my mom... she broke her back and was laid up for 6 months... I received a nasty cut on my forehead...(I still have the scar), but was OK otherwise. From the stories I have been told, Aunt Bessie took care of me for most of the 6 month while mom was recuperating. For that reason, I always have seen Aunt Bessie as my favorite.

My cousin was out of the house and married during most of my stays on the farm, but lived close by and farmed along side of his dad. (I actually was a ring bearer at my cousnin's wedding in 1958). I looked up to my cousin as a child as we went around the farm doing summer chores together: haying, watering cattle with a windmill pump, and throwing out corn on the ground to farrowing sows in the pasture. All was big stuff for a ten year old.

My cousin was 71, lived his entire life on a farm north of Newton, and died of cancer. I was struck by the entire funeral service. The preacher read some Scripture, talked of sparrows falling to the ground; but never mentioned anything about a spiritual experience of my cousins (there was none that I was aware of), and closed in a generic prayer suitable for a "Christian" burial. The service ended with the casket being rolled out of the chapel to the song by Frank Sinatra, "I did it my way!" ... followed by sandwiches and potato salad. As I looked over the table set out in foyer of the funeral home, I was saddened at what been identified as to having meaning or value to my cousin: there was a variety of farm toys... representing his love for the farm (he was a great farmer), but along with the many pictures of fishing, farm activity, and grandchildren: all of things my cousin cherished; were three other items: 2 smalls bottles of Black Velvet whiskey, a pack of Camel cigarettes, and a empty Chicago Cubs beer cup! The very thing that killed him (Camels) was seen as an important part of his life by someone; not by me... I remembered my cousin as a lover of the land and a helpful, caring neighbor.

Needless to say, I was a little weepy as I visited with my cousin's brother and sister and their children. I caught up with two of my cousin's kids outside of the funeral home on their own cigarette break; they too had no hope in their eyes or heart. Time/and the amount of people wanting to visit with the children, did not allow me to strike up a conversation about a relationship with Christ; my prayer is that I have another opportunity; I loved my cousin and his entire family and would want nothing more than spending eternity with them in heaven.

I tell you this story this morning as a reminder to each of us: What will we be carrying to our funeral; empty beer cups and pack of cigarettes, or testimonies of lives that we influenced through our works and personal witness and testimony? ....Only one life to offer... take it dear Lord I pray... or I did it my way?

Planning for eternity....today!

earldtaylor@yahoo.com