The Wrong Funeral

by Kimberly Pardue


I was at the funeral of my dearest friend,­ my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense; I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held the box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my father’s death, encouraged me in College, and prayed for me my entire life. When mother…’s illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements, to take care of her. I counted it an honor. ‘What now, Lord?’ I asked sitting in church.
My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife’s hand. My sister sat slumped against her husband’s shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child. All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. Now she was with the Lord…My work was finished, and I was alone.
I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle. “I’m late,” he explained, though no explanation was necessary.
After several eulogies, he leaned over and commented, “Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of Margaret?” “Because, that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary, no one called her Mary,'” I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn’t have sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway? “Isn’t this the Lutheran church?” “No, the Lutheran church is across the street.” “Oh.” “I believe you’re at the wrong funeral, Sir.”
The solemness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man’s mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs. The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious. I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He was laughing too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing. At the final ‘Amen,’ we darted out a door and into the parking lot. “I do believe we’ll be the talk of the town,” he smiled.
He said his name was Rick and, since he had missed his aunt’s funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee. That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time. In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June, we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, ‘Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it’s truly a match made in heaven.’


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Cowboy Computer Logic


Author Unknown

Cowboys have long seem to have computer logic 150 years before semi-conductors were invented. One can find these modern terms in the notes taken during trail drives and taming the wild west:

Log On:…… building camp fire around the chuckwagon.
Log Off:…….removing the log as it was time to move down the trail.
Monitor:…….Keepin’ an eye out on the cattle
Download:….Taking the bullets out of your six shooter often shoot’em at something
Up Load reload: Putting a fresh bullet make into the revolver
Mega Hertz:… That pain you feel landing on your bottom breakin’ horses.
Hard Drive:…….Gettin’ home in the winter season.
Prompt:……..Getting some where on time.
Windows:……What you shut when it’s below 15 below zero.
Screen:……..What ‘cha need for the black fly season.
Byte:…………What them darn mosquitoes, rattlesnakes and flies do.
Chip:…………What you never want to step in.
Backup…….. What you do when you run across a skunk in the woods
Bar Code… Them’s the fight’n rules down at the local tavern
Bug…………. Something you got when sick
Cache ………Needed to pay the bartender at the end of trail drive
Crash……… What you did wrestling steers to brand
Digital………..The art of counting on your fingers
Hacker,,,,,,,,,,What you got after smoking 40 years
Hardcopy……Wanted Poster at the Sheriff’s office
Keyboard……Where the Sheriff kept the keys to the jail cell
Modem……….What ya do when the grass gets too high
Online………..Keeping the herd moving in one direction
ROM………….What you drank when there was no Whiskey
Superconductor….Them guys asking Tickets please on the Iron Horse
SCSI…………..What you call your week-old underwear
Micro Chip:….What was left of the corn biscuits after breakfast
Infrared:………How you felt when you didn’t get to eat and biscuits.
Dot Matrix:…..Fancy trick shooter at that county fair.
Lap Top:……..Where the little kids sat while you told them stories about the trail.
Software: …….Puttin some cotton on as wool was itchy
Mouse:………..Darn critter eating the grain
Main Frame:…that’s what held up the barn roof.
Port:…………….Some Fancy wine.
Enter:…………..C’mon in.
Random Access Memory: You can’t remember whatcha’ paid for that new rifle when your wife asks.
Twitter…………Them birds singing from the brush
Facebook…….Sheriff’s book of wanted posters
Myspace………three feet around you in the bar.
Computer……..What you said to your cowdog Putt….Com’put-r

Yep, cowboys had computer logic long before computers and since the fire is gett’n little warm, I’m logging off.


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