I am planning my funeral.
I know EXACTLY what I want.
The least expensive coffin on the market.
Do NOT waste precious dollars on a fancy box
that is just going in the ground.
I was frugal in life, I have a reputation to protect.
Bury me in a size 8.
Maybe something with lace, or sequins.
Or even better, lace AND sequins.
I know you'll have to cut it open
and drape it over me,
but DO PLEASE bury me in a size 8.
Save your money, don't send flowers.
Instead, have a meal with someone you love.
Feel free to have tacos, chocolate cake
and sweet tea to remember me by.
And here is the best part,
I want THESE words said.
I want my kids to say,
“My mom was a woman of
She lived at home, like
she lived in public.”
I want my husband to say
“She treated me with dignity and respect,
and made me want to be my best self.
Rachel made me proud to be a man.”
I want my neighbors to say,
“She shared her veggies and
flowers with us,
and our kids
always had a safe place
to play over at her house.
She sure loved our kids.
Mrs. Coltharp, she really loved her
She invited me to come
every time we talked.”
I want my friends to say,
“Rachel always told me the
It wasn’t always what I
wanted to hear,
and I didn’t always agree with her,
but she always had my best
I want my bank account to say
“She always paid her
and gave generously to the Kingdom.”
I want orphaned/abandoned children to say
“She shared with
us when we were alone,
cold, hurting and hungry.”
I want my Bible to say,
“She slap WORE ME OUT”.
I want my computer, cell phone, debit card, check book and
mailbox to say “She served Christ first with me, herself second.”
I want my house to say,
“I heard her pray every day,
and watched her disciple her children
right here within my
She made me a holy place.”
And I want it all to be true.
So, like I said, I’m planning my funeral.
Every time I plan a meal. Every time I open my web browser. Every time I whip out my debit card. Every time I pay my tithe. Every time I open my door to a
neighbor, a friend, or a child.
Every time I reach for my Bible.
Every time I choke back my sarcastic
reply, choosing a gracious word instead.
Every time I stifle my irritation and serve with humility, as unto the Lord, and not men.
For when my voice has ceased to speak,
my words will echo in
the hearts of my children.
prayers have ceased to be breathed,
they will still fan the flames
in the souls
of my loved ones.
When my fingers stiffen
and are folded
into eternal stillness,
my life will still touch those I leave
But I’ll still be here.
I’m planning my funeral.