Old-Fashioned Courtesy

The long procession of cars stretched for three city blocks. We were near the end of the line. After we passed the intersection, the motorcycle police escort raced around us to the next intersection.

Out of respect, cars all along the small town streets pulled to the side of the road.

When we finally turned into the cemetery entrance, a uniformed officer stood at attention beside the road. He saluted each vehicle. True old-fashioned respect.

People came from multiple states for this man’s funeral: Washington, California, Indiana, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas. In our cities we usually reserve such ceremony only for dignitaries. Who was this man that all these people had come to honor him?

Nobody. Nobody important to anyone other than his friends and family. Annie’s family.

In many smaller communities, the police escort through town is still a courtesy extended to the grieving family and friends. The courtesy allows the entire party to arrive at the cemetery in a timely manner and not miss the graveside service.

Due to circumstances beyond our control, we arrived late to the cemetery. The funeral director was alerted to our arrival. He came forward to assist Annie. With his help, the crowd parted for Annie as she slowly pushed her walker through. The wife of Annie’s brother assisted Annie to a reserved seat beside the grave.

Common Courtesy. What a gracious thing.

The service began. Annie’s niece and nephew sang a lovely duet. To paraphrase some of the words by G.M. Eldridge:

“In the moment Jesus appears and the light from heaven shines. I’ll forget every fear, every pain I’ll leave behind. Then I’ll see Jesus as He is and I’ll know him as I’m known. Every tear wiped away when I go home.” http://shorturl.at/bgzX4

How long will it be before it is Annie’s turn to go home?

We will all make a final trip someday. I pray you will choose Jesus before then, just as Annie and her brother did.

Until next time . . . Traveling in His Light,

© 2022 SuZan Klassen. All Rights Reserved.

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