In the days leading up to the funeral of John N, the family who had lost an infant had a quiet and private funeral. Meanwhile, I was keeping busy with other members who were struggling with health. I visited two members in the hospital. One was hit by a car and still on a respirator when a missionary and myself gave him a blessing. The other was dealing with heart issues, a recent stroke, the loss of a limb due to diabetes and a failing liver. Luckily, as bad as these issues sound, I don't think there will be funerals for them.
After visiting these members I got an email from my mom. While on a vacation to Canada my dad got the balance on his medication wrong and coupled with the high elevation, he lost consciousness at the top of a mountain ski slope. It was a bit of a scare. My mom even tried mouth-to-mouth to keep my dad breathing.
My sister and I emailed back and forth about this to each other:
LaDawn: "That must have been a fun day for mom."
Jared: "Yeah. I think the worst part would have been the mouth to mouth..."
LaDawn: "I have a feeling she's used to it."
Jared: "Could you ever get used to that?"
LaDawn: "I meant her mouth on his."
Jared: "Yeah, so did I."
We were able to joke about this since my dad is ok now. As long as he takes it easy and watches his meds, he'll be fine.
Of course, in the midst of all of this, I was still planning the funeral for John N. I met with his daughter to show her my tentative rundown. Hymns were picked, speakers were chosen and details hashed out.
The morning of the funeral I got a call from the branch clerk, the one man left in the branch presidency who was helping me out. He was to play the CD (the funeral home didn't have a piano), act as chorister, and say the closing prayer at the funeral. His wife had gone into labor at 3am and was now possibly in need of a blood transfusion. Understandably, I excused him from the funeral.
I asked a few people in attendance to assist with the duties I had previously assigned to the clerk. After a few rejections I found enough willing people. Then I was made aware that the person I had speaking on the plan of salvation at the funeral was watching the other kids of the clerk while he was at the hospital with his wife. I feverishly typed away on my BlackBerry browser looking through LDS.org to find some good material. Just as I was about to announce myself as the next speaker, to my astonishment, the salvation speaker came in, thus saving me.
The funeral home was supposed to make arrangements to have a police escort for the funeral procession to the grave. I'm not sure if it was the funeral home or the police, but someone dropped the ball and we had no escort. Only 6 cars were in the procession after the first intersection. We had lost more than 2/3 of the line by the time we got to the burial plot. On the way, we passed another funeral procession that did have a police escort and a few members of our group ended up at someone else's burial.
Before long, and thanks to cell phones, we got the majority of the group together under a canopy and the casket out of the hearse. The funeral director then handed me a microphone. We have to actually be at the grave to dedicate it, so I had to think fast on what to do as I was not expecting all eyes on me once again. I opted to have a moment of silence. Most everybody there was not LDS so it made for a nice moment to those of any faith. Then the poll bearers took the casket to the grave where I dedicated a grave for the first time.
On the way back from the funeral Anna and I stopped by the hospital to visit the clerk and his wife. She was then doing better. There was something surreal about leaving a funeral and winding up at the hospital to visit a newborn and his mother.
Anna and I got home long enough to eat dinner and clean up before we went to the chapel for a baptism. I was planing on merely presiding as our Branch Mission Leader was conducting. I got a call five minutes before the baptism was to start informing me he would not be able to make it. I was now to conduct.
The baptism went smoothly and the Spirit was strong. When I made my closing remarks and welcomed the newly baptized into our branch I made note of what an unusual day it had been for me. A funeral, a birth and now, a baptism which symbolized the death and resurrection of Christ. His old life died in the water and he was born again before our eyes. Sometimes I can't stop welling up with tears when I bear my testimony and this was one of those times.
By the time I made it home that night I was physically and emotionally drained. In the back of my mind was the thought that I would also be the only member of the presidency in church the next day and would likely have an equally busy day.
Next week the branch president returns to island and in two weeks I leave for my super vacation to the U.S. and Costa Rica. The lows of the funeral and the highs of the baptism and child birth will fade. Life will roll on and everything will return to normal. But somehow, I know that no matter what happens now, the events of this past week will, even if subconsciously, forever affect my personal journey from cradle to grave.
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