A friend and fellow feminist (who would never mess around with gender pronouns) quoted my funeral homily in one of her sermons.
The original sermon (not the memorial service homily thing) is back in my possession as my webmaster is having technical difficulties (as in a power outage fried his computer’s guts). As soon as I have a spare minute I’ll burn it and upload it to my archive. But first, I have a day-long meeting this week, and I’m having a new Lutheran pastor and her husband over for dinner, and I have another funeral. I’m actually looking forward to it– a lovely and delightful woman and mother who kicked cancer a couple of times before it finally caught up to her, and she died relatively peacefully (no gunshots were involved at least). What does it say about me that I consider any death not involving a weapon to be a pretty good thing right about now?
One of those weird sermon days that affirm for me why it’s a good thing I don’t use a manuscript (the bad thing is that it makes uploading much more difficult!). I had one whole sermon written out in bullet form. It was okay, nothing stellar. But as I was reading the scripture aloud in the worship service something else, well, hit me. And I preached a different sermon, and a far better one. How strangely erm, cool.