Funerals are not the place to talk about doing the dishes, folding
laundry, or the daily grind of a boring job. We most likely will hear of great
deeds or the shining moments of the life being mourned and celebrated. Maybe we
should change that. Maybe we should hear about how many times the person cooked
dinner for her family, or how many days he endured at work in order to pay the
bills. What if we took a moment at someone’s passing to celebrate the marvelous
mundane that makes life possible?
Think about the day you had yesterday. Chances are you
didn’t hit the winning home run to win the World Series. You didn’t win the
big case before the Supreme Court. You didn’t solve the crime of the century.
You didn’t save the world from impending destruction. Most likely you spent the
day with routine things like wiping counters, sorting data on a spreadsheet, or
changing light bulbs. Tomorrow will probably be the same – a day filled with
menial tasks that don’t seem to make a difference.
Is that all life is – a string of almost meaningless
activities placed end to end together until we die?
At the recent funerals I attended, one man’s mundane
accomplishments included a thankless job that he trudged off to everyday, yet
it allowed him to come home everyday and play catch with his son. His sons
valued that memory more than his military service in the Korean War. One woman’s
father tasked her as a young girl to learn how to bake bread, but when she
passed even the local nail manicurist remembered her for all the delicious
breads and cookies that she baked. A young girl spent most of her time at play,
but was remembered for her warm smile on the volleyball court. None of the
activities seemed heroic, yet each one was remembered more for the mundane than for the unusual, or extraordinary.
