What I'm STILL Learning...

As my friend Ginny would say, "This is a serious blog. Sit down, shut up, and listen."

Yesterday was probably one of the hardest days of my life as we were faced with the funeral of our sweet friend, Ginny. About six years ago, way before she was ever faced with cancer, she asked me to sing a certain song at her funeral. I believe the words I said to her were, "Would you stop it and stop talking about your funeral. Who does that?" Well, she did apparently, and I remembered it.

That was all she said, and she never brought the song up again - until she was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago. On what was apparently a particularly hard day, she asked me in front of "witnesses" as she called them, to sing at her service again. I just shook my head and started crying. Now all of the sudden it seemed all too real to me, and I was literally terrified.

So, when she passed last week, I knew it was coming. Her husband, David, called me on Saturday and asked me to do just that. I knew I had to do it for my friend, but I was completely mortified of singing at a funeral, especially one of someone that had made such an impact on my life. But I knew what I had to do.

Those of you who have been to funerals with me know what I'm referring to. I'm a contagious cryer. I can sob at a service of someone I've never even met. I actually did that once when my mom forced me to go to a funeral of one of my great aunts when I was in high school. It was bad...really, really bad. I think she got some comic relief out of it because she was too busy laughing at me rather than paying attention to the service. BTW, thanks for that, Mom.

Anyway...back to my friend. I've known the song selection for years, so I didn't have to learn anything. I just had to get geared up for it...put my game face on and get to work.

I was nothing short of an emotional wreck. I mean a sobbing, tissue grabbing, eye-swollen mess. So many people, myself included, didn't think I was going to be able to pull this off for anyone, much less for Ginny. As Carl and I were practicing the day before, the funeral home pulled up. Now I know these guys do this for a living, but they just wheeled her in and flipped open the lid. WAIT A SECOND. HOLD THE PHONE. I wasn't ready for that. But I think it turned out for the best. I was able to have my own private viewing, sort of speak. I cried, talked to the kids (who were of course with me) about death and heaven, and I then knew I could do it.

The day of the service comes, and I'm still an absolute wreck. My heart is beating out of my chest, it's hard to breathe, and I think I could very easily vomit. I think I'm having a panic attack. But in the back of my mind, I keep hearing Ginny's voice saying to me, "Would you stop being such a baby and shut up and just SING THE SONG! It's just me for crying out loud!" Then I suddenly felt a peace about the whole thing. And she was right.

I had considered, depending on my emotional state, saying a few words before I sang. I had this elaborate speech all prepared in my head, but when I got up to start talking about her, I really didn't say any of it. I just said what came out, what I felt. To me, singing is always the easy part. It's the talking that always gets me. My voice was shaky, but I was able to somehow keep it together.

The song went very well, better than I ever expected. I owe a lot of thanks to Carl for playing guitar for me and for talking me down from the rafters when I called him crying and telling him I couldn't do it. Also a big thanks to everyone who encouraged me along the way, and to Denni for the emotional support she showed to me after I lost it when I finally sat back down.

My point is this: I learned something about myself today. I didn't think I had the confidence to do this, but Ginny knew I could. She wouldn't have asked me otherwise. She's still teaching me things, and I think that says a lot to the testament of her character and her influence on my life.

So, I'm grateful for friends both on earth and in heaven. I'm grateful that I am in a position to bolt off to the emergency room at a moment's notice to be able to tell my friend how much I love her and to say goodbye. I'm grateful that I'm not totally wrapped up in a job, activities for the kids, or other things that don't really matter in the grand scheme of life. I'm grateful for the things she taught me and for the things I'm still finding out along the way.

I'm grateful that Ken and I got to ride to the cemetery with an past pastor from Foundery and get our own little private counseling session along the way. John Humphries is one of the greatest people I've ever met; he makes me want to be a better person. Ginny loved him, and I know she was happy that he spoke about her amazing life.

In fact, she would have loved every minute of the service. She would have loved that a lot of people from our old church were there and that we all sat around and laughed, exchanged pics of the kids, and talked about old times. She would have loved that and would have been right there in the middle of it all. In fact, I think she was.

What I've Learned from my Friend

There she was. She was the skinny, short-haired, glasses wearing lady sitting on the ottoman. She was older than me, maybe old enough to be my mom, but it was hard to tell exactly. She seemed nice enough. I guess I was going to have to like her. Then she opened her mouth and out it came.

It was the first time in my then 22-year-old self that I'd ever heard someone curse in church. I just knew that God himself was going to appear in the room with a cloud of smoke and fire and strike her down for such an abominable act. But He didn't.

He didn't. Interesting. Okay, so I was naive, but I'd never met anyone like her before. She seemed to say what was on her mind and somehow get away with it. She didn't sugar coat her words; she just told it like it was, pretty or not. But I probably learned the most from her by what she did rather than what she said.

She was an amazing mentor to me. She taught me to be ME - never to pretend to be someone I'm not. She taught me to be more confident in myself. She taught me to be accepting of others - judging was a waste of her time. She taught me to love. She taught me to never give up.

I know she's up in heaven giving 'em heck. I can just hear her now..."Pearly gates? Streets of gold? Crystal seas? You know you can't write those things off on your taxes so don't even try that crap with me."

I know she'll be there waiting on me, with some sort of sarcastic comment that she's probably already brewing up. She'll be ready to introduce me to all the people she's met since she got there and fill me in on all their info. And maybe then we'll understand all those New Testament parables that went over our heads in Disciple II. Or maybe we won't care at all.

My friend, Ginny Cheek, died on Friday night after a more than 2 year kick-ass fight with lung cancer. She meant the world to me, and I can't wait to see her again.

Me and My Big Mouth

For as long as I can remember, I've been a talker. As a 3rd grader, my lifelong ambition was to someday, somehow open up my yellow, tri-fold report card with my name printed ever so neatly on the front, and not see the words I had grown so accustomed to seeing. And every single time, there it was staring back on me in that bright, red, unforgiving ink: talks too much.

I can still remember weighing the options in my 8-year-old mind. "Okay, let's see," I would contemplate. "Can I really spend nine whole weeks keeping to myself without talking to the lucky kids sitting next to me?" Maybe, just maybe, I could pull it off. Then I could be "Citizen of the Month" and get that awesome Polaroid picture posted in the hallway by the cafeteria for everyone to admire. I could do it. I could.

I considered this shift in behavior many times throughout my elementary school career, but every time I would end up right back where I started. What's one more check mark in the grand scheme of life? So, I talk too much. Big deal.

My friend, Julie, had the opposite problem. She was always sitting quietly, her nose in a book, and didn't speak to anyone. I'm still not quite sure why she ever became friends with me; we were so different. She was Citizen of the Month every year from kindergarten through fourth grade, and I was completely jealous. If only I could get my picture in that dang hallway...

These days, though, my lack of early focused self-control seems to be more evident every day. Now I talk to so many people, I find myself forgetting who I tell what and end up repeating the same stories to the same people. Guess I need to either gather some new friends or start taking notes on the ones I already have.

My new life goal is to do more listening that talking. Seriously. I'm trying it. Something happened to my self-editor these last few months, and I now find myself saying things I shouldn't much more often than I should. So that's it. Welcome to my new listening phase. I can do it. I can. No more check marks for me :)