I was too young to remember the funerals of my biological Omas, but today I attended the funeral of my Oma-Friend (as she would sign off her letters), and I want to talk about it.
Not because I enjoy morbid topics, or because her life changed the world (although it did change mine, and for the better), or even because I am one of the few people who get the precious chance of a third Oma, but because I want a funeral like hers.
I want a love for Jesus so comprehensive that I leave enough Bible verses for my funeral that the talk could have gone on for three days.
I want a love for Jesus so joyful that I leave a list of thanksgiving songs so long that they need to be culled so we’re not still singing into the next morning.
I want a love for Jesus so confident that I ask that my funeral be called a ‘Thanksgiving Service’ – not for my life, but for the love and mercy of my Saviour.
If I reach 97 (2 weeks from 98!), I want to be able to say as my Oma-Friend did:
“Don’t make much of me at my Thanksgiving Service, make much of Christ.”
A poem written for my Oma-Friend on her 92nd birthday, and my 18th (2012)
With you I’d like to share,
Something I know I believe;
That our Father who is in Heaven,
Does give us what we need.
Now ninety-two years ago,
To this day, the 14th of September,
God gave me what I needed most
At a time before I can remember.
He knew one day I’d be,
By His Will and through His Plan,
Without an Oma; so His answer
Came not in package, box or van.
Instead it came in you,
And I couldn’t ask for more,
Someone to talk to and to love,
In you, He opened a door.
You don’t know how much it meant,
To realise that in church there be,
A certain older woman,
Who was a friend to me!
It was in His design,
That our birthdays be twins too,
For when I was a little girl,
That drew me to you!
Now I am a bit older,
And so are you, I see,
But nothing’s greatly changed,
For, “you” and “I” are still “we”!
So lots of love I send you,
On your birthday, and mine,
While we live and laugh and weep,
And through us God’s plans align.
For this I praise His name,
Be we apart or together,
Until the time that comes,
When we will praise His name forever.
I know I will see her again one day.
[…] I want a funeral like hers […]