Opinion : On my day off...

...I went to my Great Aunt Ruth's funeral.

She lived in the metropolis of Marathon. A 3 hour drive away.

I'm a wimp.

After an hour my brother-in-law with started hearing, "Are we there yet?" "I'm thirsty!" "Can we stop, I need a bathroom..." "What's this button do?" "Turn the music up/off/down/on" "This seat is uncomfortable" "I'm bored."

And that was WITHOUT the kids riding along!

While driving through the countryside, it was a bit refreshing to see cornfields, little farms, and life, real life, not on a computer screen.

I pondered my Aunt Ruth, and the family we only see anymore at funerals, wondered who would be there and if I would recognize them.

We arrived at the church, and discovered all the relatives that came filled half the church, the other half was filled with friends.

That speaks volumes. Usually when you're 86, there aren't a lot of friends left to come to your funeral. Her funeral was busting at the seams with friends of all ages, most younger than her!

This side of our family is the one that has the preachers, and various church goers that fill so many positions in churches across the country. So it wasn't a surprise to hear about all of my aunts activities in the church and in her community.

She was the type that when I picture her, she is coming at you with a huge smile and her arms wide open to give you a hug.

We started making the trip to her house when I was a kid. I think she was the only great aunt we travelled to see.

My dad, I always thought, was one of her favorites.

We'd pop in and she'd get out cookies or cake and feed us and we'd sit around the livingroom while they'd catch up on each other's lives, but my favorite part was the memories they'd share.

She was a nurse, and had an awesome sense of humor.

If you put the occupation and the humor together, well, you're good for hours of laughs.

She was always one of those gals that you knew if you needed her to pray for you, she was the one to call, my grandmother was that way as well. I remember at one time my grandma told me, "I always pray for you girls (my sister and I)." I didn't appreciate it then.

Another time, my dad called my grandmother after returning from driving his semi all week, which was part of his weekend routine.

One week he'd had an accident, I believe it was on a Tuesday evening. She immediately asked him, "What happened at (whatever time it was) on Tuesday night?" He NEVER told her if he ran into trouble because she'd worry even more about him.

He sheepishly told her about his accident, then asked her, "Why?"

"Because, I woke up with a strong urge to pray for you!"

Then I started thinking about my great grandmother. I thought, "Wow, SHE must've been something to raise her daughters to be serious about their faith, and not shy about it. I wonder if my great great grandparent's were like that?"

So faith is part of the norm for me.

The works are where I sometimes feel like I fall short.

After Ruth's funeral, I left challenged to be a better...well everything.

The stories that were shared, the activities she was part of, the life she lived, the children she raised, the legacy she left...sigh...I'll never measure up I'm sure.

But I left feeling happy. Definitely not happy that we lost Ruth to a freakish car accident, but happy that she left us on a good note, in a way that left no reason to feel sad or angry. She left us in her sweet quiet way, and challenged us to just be better at being us.

So adios, dear aunt of mine.

Thanks for the laughs, the hugs, the warm feelings you leave in my heart, but most of all, thanks for your prayers...guess I've got a lot of things to do to fill your shoes!