It was suggested that my siblings and I speak at our father’s funeral. I unhesitantly agreed to do so, for how I could refuse this opportunity to rise up and call my father blessed, to praise him also, and in so doing glorify my Heavenly Father, who commands children to honor their parents?
Utterly exhausted from my night watch the eve before, that night I lay down and slept very soundly; but in the early hours of the morning I unwontedly awoke, and all the events of the day before filled my mind. You would think that at such a time all I would experience is anguish and hopelessness, but God – oh, how gracious He is and full of compassion! – began bringing numerous things to my remembrance, a little incident here, a word spoken there, decisions made great and small, all that revealed to me of how He knew beforehand and was preparing me for this time, even when I knew it not nor expected it.
Oh, yes, so very many things that I cannot recall them all! Eventually I felt compelled to get up while I had them all so clear in my mind and begin composing what I would say. But the written words just wouldn’t come. I thought and typed and backspaced. I had no idea of what to say; my thoughts were jumbled; clarity and conciseness had escaped me.
We were staying at my older brother's house, and I wished myself at home where surely I could find something I already written to give me some inspiration. Ah, Facebook! I logged into my week-old account, where I had already posted a few “Notes.”
Aside from two new paragraphs and some editing, I drew entirely from things I had posted online just days before. I still cannot believe how it came together. My God is amazing!
“O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out!” (Romans 11:33).
However, my biggest concern was, “Will I really be able to say all of this without choking on tears or perhaps even breaking down in sobs?” Even as I was writing it, I had hardly been able to focus on the screen because of my unceasing flow of tears. But I wanted to say it all; I felt that it was what God would have me to say.
I consulted my older brother, asking him to read it; he said it would indeed be impossible. Ah, perhaps I could film myself speaking and show it on the projector? The next afternoon when I finally had some time to do so, I took myself outdoors with a tripod. The video looked awful; my red, tear-stained face looked awful. Still, from running through the printed page a few times, I almost knew it well enough to speak it word-for-word.
That night I received some much-needed encouragement from some dear friends who had experienced the loss of close family. Both strongly assured me that I would definitely be able. It was a relief.
I look back at the wake and then the funeral with unexplainable delight and joy. All those things that God brought to my remembrance that night, plus others that He had shown my friends and family, were bits and pieces of a wonderful testimony that I shared with every person I spoke to. There were over seven hundred people who came to the wake, I am told, and I tried to talk to every single one. I am naturally quiet and reserved in large crowds, but I completely lost myself and all self-consciousness in my desire to give praise to my Heavenly Father for blessing me with a strong earthly father. It was an amazing feeling.
I was very hoarse afterward, another obstacle to sharing the speech I had put together. It was awful to have so much to say and no voice to say it with. It’s funny to think now of such little, insignificant things, but I drank lots of lemon and honey and gargled lots of salt water in order to be able to even enunciate with any kind of clarity.
But not one tear broke my voice, nor the slightest bit of nervousness interfered. I shared with unwonted boldness all that I had written. It was a testimony in the weeks to come, as person after person came up to me and said how very blessed they had been by my speech. I can’t take credit for it, not even an ounce, for it was undeniably God’s work and not my own.
I thank God for counting my family worthy to be entrusted with such a testimony as we have.
I am waiting with anticipation!
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