Let's just take a breath....

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." Psalm 91

I've tried, tried for over 36 hours to close my eyes and pretend that Friday never happened. That 20 sweet, beautiful, innocent kindergartners are home with their parents tonight. But, they're not. And I can't make sense of it.

I wrote a blog on 9/11 about how 11 years later, I still can't wrap my head around the tragedy. Well, apparently the world wants to give me some practice because there hasn't been a shortage of tragedy lately. But, the latest act of violence...... is kindergartners. Angels, precious angels. I can't even put it into words -- and putting things into words, its what I do.

Friday, for the first time EVER, I got involved in a political discussion on Facebook. One of my friends made an ignorant comment (in my opinion) about gun control and after trying to process the killing of 20 children and listening to my coworkers incessant babble -- I put my two cents in. I got involved in a mug slinging, sensationalist political fist fight about gun control while 40 parents went home to empty houses and thought about making funeral arrangements for their kindergartners. What the hell is wrong with me?! What the hell is wrong with this world? How, in the name of God, could someone do this? How could anyone look a sweet, innocent child in the face and pull the trigger? I don't get it, I will never get it.

I'll save you the "Kumbaya", "Lets all get along" crap. I'm someone who's life literally revolves around death. Literally. I see it everyday of my life. And I don't have an answer for this one. I don't know how the families will ever move on. I don't know how the surviving students and teachers will ever recover. I don't know how any of us make sense of this.

And, to top it all off --- the sorry S.O.B responsible for yesterday's massacre killed himself. How convenient. The rest of us are left to pick up the pieces and he makes a calculated exit. Good thing I'm not the judge and jury for the hereafter.

And we all want to take this opportunity to beat our political and moral chests. Gun control this, pubic schools that. Really?! We want to make that the issue? A man walks into an elementary school and opens fire after killing his own mother and we want to argue with each other? GROW UP. The world is hard and it's getting harder everyday and we need to decide if we are living for this world or the next. We can scream about tougher gun laws and the pros of homeschooling all day long -- but it doesn't bring back 26 innocent lives. All I can do is pray. That's all I've got.

So, what to take away from this? You read my blog today looking for answers or a different perspective -- but you might walk away disappointed. All day Friday I kept thinking about two things. I got cut off on my way to work and not only blew the horn, but cursed the culprit. It was a girl, about my age -- who probably didn't see me. But, in my haste and hurry to get to work, I showed her much less than I was called to. I also thought about my beautiful niece who is in kindergarten. I could get through the day with watery eyes, but when I thought about her -- the waterworks started. Death at any age is hard for those left behind -- even when it comes as a blessing. But, the death of a 6 year old... there are no words.

So, my moral tonight is this: Let's all take a deep breath. Go hug your families. Snuggle those beautiful babies and tell your spouse you love them. Remember that we are called here to love each other. I'm not preaching a high and mighty sermon here -- I am trying to remind myself too. Everyday I have to make the decision if I am going to be who He called me to be, or if I am going to get down in the mud and join the fist fight. We've taken enough punches folks. It would be all too easy to let the events at Sandy Hook Elementary fill us with hate. Right now, I hate the man who robbed 26 families of their loved ones. Hate him. But, lucky for me I have a God whom I can pray to for the strength to find forgiveness. That's my prayer for all of us -- strength. I can't give you anything else but my prayers. I can't do anything for the victims, but pray. I can't think of anything that will help, but pray. So, pray. If you are a praying person - pray. If you've never prayed in your life -  pray. Pray for the families, the first responders, the victims and the nation that tries to wrap our heads around it. Just take a breath and pray.

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19:14

Thanksgiving: Here's My Beef....

It makes me sick how sugary sweet, faux-thankful some people get this time of year. I love Thanksgiving, don't get me wrong. It's a holiday that gets too little attention -- with Christmas apparently starting in August these days. But should we need a holiday, a little turkey on the calendar to tell us we should be thankful? Now, keep your pants on as I explain --- this is going to offend some of you.

Lots of folks make lists this time of year of all the things they are thankful for. All the happy, joyous, beautiful things in their lives. I love the lists on Facebook --- "Today I am thankful for my wonderful job!" -- is that the same job you were complaining about yesterday, or is this a different one? Or, "Today I am thankful for my amazing Husband/Wife!" --- same one who didn't do XYZ right yesterday, or someone new? I'm guilty of this too folks -- no pointing fingers here. There is NOTHING wrong with being thankful this time of year. My fear and my concern is that we aren't thankful EVERY day for EVERY moment, event, person, breath in our lives. It's easy to be thankful for the cute babies and gorgeous homes. But, what about the crippling cancer that might rob you of your life --- but has brought you closer to your family and taught you to enjoy the moments you have? What about the first marriage that you are so embarrassed about? Without that -- you wouldn't be who you are today, loving your true love the way you were meant to. What about the house fire or flood that made you realize a "home" is not four walls and furniture?

I find myself getting so caught up in thinking about what "things" I have to be thankful for this time of year. I feel like I have to make them really good, so people will simultaneously think "she is so blessed and she is so humble!" Well, I AM blessed -- but some of the biggest blessings in my life have been things I promise you wouldn't find on any Facebook list this month. More than that -- I am (I am trying to be) thankful for the blessings in my life throughout the year, not just in November. It's a struggle, I'm not gonna lie. Life gets busy, the bills pile up, Jim leaves his cereal bowl on the counter AGAIN....and suddenly, I'm not thankful. Not in my heart, anyway. If someone asked me about my life,  I would smile and say "oh yes! I am so blessed!!" But, I'm not always living as though I feel that way. I need to stop. I need to get over it and realize that I AM blessed, every day. Every circumstance, struggle, speed bump is an opportunity, a gift. Lofty? Absolutely. But, I've never been a girl who shys away from a challenge.

So this year, I am going to be thankful that I have the opporunity to move forward from this day striving to appreciate my life. Not just in the great moments, but in the tough ones too. I can appreciate my job, even on the days I want to stay home. I can appreciate my health, even on days when my Crohns Disease kicks me in the gut. I can appreciate my marriage, even on the days we need boxing gloves. Don't stop being especially thankful this time of year - lets all just try to remember that we are just as blessed on a Tuesday in April as we are on a Thursday in November.

Who's Calling?

Who's calling? Whose calling? Eiher way....I don't get it. What's my calling in life? Blogger extrordinare? Of course, but there must be something else.

I keep waiting for the call. It comes from God, I suppose. Does He call collect, because I'm not getting anything.

Jim's calling is to be a funeral director. I know that as sure as I am sitting here. I tell people that all the time. Especially when they ask - "how did he get into that?" He was called. I've never asked him how the conversation went, but the message was clear. How a man who shoots deer, yells at football referees on tv and will eat the last scoop of ice cream in a heart beat, can be one of the kindest, most compassionate people I've ever met is beyond me. But,  when you experience a death - you want Jim Dobbins in your corner. He's calm, collected, yet warm and caring in difficult situations. He's genuine, honest, trustworthy and a man I can be proud to call my husband. His number one thought when working with a family is always the family. We opened Simplicity Lowcountry Cremation & Burial Services to give families another option. Jim couldn't stand to sit across from a grieving family and ask them for a $10K check for a funeral. And -- that's on the low end.  Jim sees this as his way of helping people at one of the most difficult times of the lives. Honorable man, noble calling.

I - on the other hand - got nothing. I'm good at naps. A decent cook (haven't killed anyone yet). I aspire to be crafty, but Pinterest makes me feel so inadequate.  I have a good job, that I am pretty good at --- but it certainly isn't my calling. Maybe my call will come later in life -- maybe I'm a late bloomer of sorts. Some people have suggested I write a book. Seems like an awful lot of work to go through with no guarantee any one will publish OR buy it. For a time I thought my calling was to be the perfect wife. But -- I'm sure fellow wives can agree with me -- "perfect" ain't gonna happen. So.....

What does all this have to do with the death care business? Well, a lot. At the end of your life you are basically reduced to a name, some dates and an occupation. So, it begs the question -- do you want a flashy title that reads well in the paper -- or a calling that truly made a difference? Not that the two are mutually exclusive - but sometimes that's the case.

I've come to realize that I am wonderful "support staff". I aspire to be the help mate God created me to be. To my husband, to our business, to my community. Maybe that isn't flashy, but it's who I am. Maybe I will write a book. Maybe I will be a mom someday. But ultimately, I can rest easy knowing that I was a steady, dependable presence in the lives of those I love and care about. How will that read in the paper? I need to start working on a way to make it sound a little sexier than just "Helper".

Maybe you are lucky enough to be doing what you love and loving what you do. But -- if you aren't.... dig deeper. Look past the salary, the corner office, the fancy title. We're all here for a reason, what's yours?

Dear Dad...

Last Friday marked the 28th anniversary of the day my father was killed in an automobile accident. 28th anniversary - sounds like it should be a happy occasion. I make Jim celebrate the anniversaries of our first date, our wedding, my first Michigan State game. 28th anniversary of the day my father was tragically and irrevocably ripped out of our lives -- doesn't have the same ring to it.

I'm just now, at the age of 29, beginning to understand the wide expanse of the hole he left behind. Why now? I'm not sure. Maybe it's because I'm in a good place in my life. Maybe that's when all the stuff you couldn't deal with before bubbles up to the surface. I was 16 months old when he died. I have no memories of him. I don't remember what his voice sounded like, how he smelled, what it felt like to have him hold me. All the things a little girl (and a 29 year woman) should know about her father. Don't think for a second that losing a parent at a young age is somehow easier than losing them later in life. You lose a parent, it sucks - period. He never taught me how to throw a softball, never taught me how to dance before prom, never threatened the lives of any boy who would hurt his daughter. I'm not bitter - well, maybe a little. Why him? Why me? Why does this have to be ONE of the tragic defining moments of my life? Why can't I be the normal girl at school with a mommy and a daddy? Why can't I call him up today and say "Hi Dad, was just thinking about you" I don't get it and the more I think about it - the angrier I get. But, that's not my point today.....

When I was little, I used to fantasize that my Dad was going to come back to me. Maybe he was in the CIA or witness protection. One day he would show up on my door step and apologize for all the years he missed. We would hug and begin the father/daughter relationship I had longed for my entire life. I wish I could tell you those fantasies faded with my childhood -- but they're still there,  just under the surface. And, during difficult times in my life - I secretly entertain the idea that he could still come back. What would I say?
Dear Dad,

Ok, yes this is weird. I'm writing you a letter (for the whole world to read by the way). And, you're dead. That might send me over the edge just writing that. Dead. But, you're not. You are very much alive - in me. I like to think that I am a little piece of you that gets to live on. I like to think that some of the good in me comes from you. I like to believe that I have become a woman you would be proud to call your daughter. That's my biggest fear in the world - that you would be disappointed. You left this world far too soon and left behind what? A daughter who can't seem to get it together? I'm trying Dad, but I need you. I need my Dad to tell me that its ok, that its all going to be OK. I need you to be HERE.

I've made some bad choices Dad -  done things I'm not proud of. Would you have loved me anyway? Would you have shook your head in disappointment or wrapped me in your understanding arms? I guess I'll never know. And, that kills me. I won't rehash the events of the last 29 years -- we do have an audience. I guess the long and the short of it is - you weren't there. When I was in a bad relationship - I needed my Dad to be the superhero that rescued me. When I finally met and married my best friend - I needed my Dad to walk me down the aisle. When I graduated high school, college, got my first job - I needed you.

But, I'm Ok Dad. In the grand scheme of where I could be in my life -- I think I'm doing pretty well. Mom is ok too. She misses you - every day, though she would never say that out loud. I have good friends, a beautiful home and a job that pays the bills. I have two men in my life I wish you could meet. My husband, Jim, is the man I know you picked for me. I can imagine you and God sitting on a cloud looking down to earth saying, "he's the one for her -- go have somebody event something called EHarmony so we can get them together" The other is a Jim too -- my father in law, Papa D. He's a Dad any girl would be lucky to have. He already has a beautiful daughter of his own, but he has love enough in his heart for me too. He protects me and looks out for me -- I know someday you will shake his hand and say "thank you for taking care of my little girl".

Well Dad, I gotta run. I'm at work and bawling like a baby at my desk as I write this. Don't worry -- we'll still have our regular chats -- when I'm running or driving or snuggling in for the night. I love you. I miss you. And I thank you for being a man I can be proud to call my Dad. I'll be seeing you -- I still need those dance lessons. Oh - and give Grandpa a kiss for me.

Love, Miranda

9/11

I'm not sure that I set out to write a post tonight about 9/11 -- but its all I can think about. 11 years later -- the footage is still everywhere. All the major networks will show the attacks in real time tomorrow morning. All of us will awake with fresh wounds -- as if  they ever really healed.

I write alot about ideals. About seizing the day and not letting death get the best of you. You'll see your loved ones again, no big deal. Yes, big deal. I'm embarassed to say it really has taken 11 years but I think the gravity of 9/11 has finally hit me. I've watched countless documentaries on the subject (Jim is borderline obsessed). I've seen the footage so many times I still see it when I close my eyes. I've listened to all 2, 819 names being read at Ground Zero. I'm a big picture girl. I get the big picture of 9/11. We were attacked, we responded and went to war. The landscape of our country, our psyche, our world -- will never be the same.

After we relive the tragedy tomorrow and lick our wounds for the appropriate amount of time -- we will again start remembering the good that came from the bad. The hope that rose from the rubble....or something like that. How do I wrap my head around that? Like I said -- 11 years later I am just now getting it. Most of you have probably been where I am now. Maybe you processed and moved on -- please tell me how. How am I suppose to reconcile with my head and my heart the fact that almost 3,000 people were killed in a single day -- for a single reason? Then, my big picture brain really gets the best of me and I think -- what about the Holocaust? The genocide in Africa? The tsunami in Indonesia? Countless lives lost. Tragically lost. Aren't all lives lost tragic? Would it be worse to lose a loved one to 9/11 than a car accident?The result is the same -- isn't it? What's the point? All of the sudden the world seems very big and I feel very small. I'm worried about getting laundry done and ticked off at Jim for leaving his cereal bowl on the counter again -- and all this tragedy is happening? Happening DAILY. I don't see a tenth of it -- will never hear about it on mainstream media -- will never have to process its ugliness.

Maybe that's it. Maybe we were forced to see the ugliness of 9/11 over and over and over again. Maybe that's why its so disturbing. I live a privledged, sheltered life. I've never feared for my life because I worship Jesus Christ. I've never feared a terrroist attack in my country -- even AFTER 9/11. Am I naive, stupid, out of touch? Death is everywhere. And, the best I can hope for is to die an old lady warm in my bed. (yes, I pulled that from Titanic, don't judge me) So - where do I go from here?

You have to learn from everything -- good,bad and ugly - or this ride we're on really is pointless. What have I learned from 9/11? Don't worry -- I'm not going to pull out flowery cliches about Carpe Diem and God has a plan and it all works out in the end. 9/11 doesn't work out. There is no amount of reasoning or religion that will make that day OK. There is no amount of ignorance or denial that will change the fact that everyday death is a reality for so many across the globe. My lesson from 9/11? I am one hell of a lucky girl. I live in a nation where people were running IN to burning buildings to save their fellow citizens. I live in a world where for everyone trying to destroy life -- there are others trying to preserve it.

Tomorrow when you turn the tv on to watch the coverage (you know you will) figure out what it means to you. Decide how the defining moment of our generation is going to define you. My goal -- still feel 9/11 next week. Still feel lucky when I pick up Jim's cereal bowl. Still feel privledged when I see someone flying the American flag. Still feel honored to serve families in times of loss -- whether that loss comes as a blessing or a tragedy. Still see God and know that 11 years ago Heaven was blessed with the arrival of 2,819 angels.

May God continue to bless the families of 9/11 victims, the first responders who showed the true courage and tenacity of the American spirit and our men and women in uniform -- who defend our freedom daily.

That's Life, Baby.

"Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride" - Gary Allen

Life isn't always beautiful and like a NASCAR race, it's not always a beautiful ride -  sorry Gary. And, unlike NASCAR, there's no safer barrier, no helmets, no holds barred. Sometimes it's OK, sometimes it's great and sometimes it's just plain ugly. That's life, baby.

I just got back from a trip to visit family in Michigan. Technically, they were Jim's family first - but, I love those Dobbins' like they were my own. We went up to visit for various reasons. But it was our first time away from the funeral home. Away - we thought - from the daily reminder of the circle of life. W.R.O.N.G. If ever there was a "full circle" trip -- this was it.

Let me back up. "That's life, Baby" -- the title of this blog is a phrase I find myself telling my husband all the time. We are running on zero sleep - that's life. We had an argument over replacing the roll of toilet paper - that's life. Our friends enjoyed a long summer of days on the beach, we spent long hours growing our business - that's life. God never promised it would be easy, He just promised He would always be with us. And, in the grand scheme of LIFE -- Jim and I are blessed beyond our wildest dreams. I have moments of doubt and so does he, but at the end of the day -- it doesn't get much better than this. I am married to my best friend - literally. Who else can you make up new words like "snarf" with,  at the airport when some guy sounds like he just sneezed and barfed at the same time? And -- still be laughing about it 3 days later :) Who else knows you so well it's comforting and infuriating -- depending on the situation. We have a beautiful home, a growing business and live in a part of the country most people dream of visiting. But - life ain't always beautiful. Back to our Michigan trip.

I met my nephew. My sweet, snuggly,  6 month old miracle nephew. I rememebered what love at first sight felt like. (I've experienced it before -- I've got two nieces who have Auntie M wrapped right around their little fingers). My brother and sister in law tried for 6 years to have this little munchkin -- he is beautiful, he makes LIFE beautiful.

A month ago my brother in law had a horrible accident with a table saw. He lost one finger and may never regain full mobility of two more. Is he upset? Absolutely. Is he thinking about it when he holds his beautiful son? Maybe. But - when he's down on the floor, blowing on his tummy and making him laugh - I'm guessing a lot of things get put into perspective. That's life, baby. As my Mama D would say "Schtuff happens". And, sometimes that "Schtuff" sucks. Holding my nephew, seeing his Daddy in a way I've never seen him before -- sometimes that "Schtuff" is awesome.

Jim's uncle has cancer. Four words. One of which - cancer - is enough to send any of us running. He has a loving wife and two beautiful daughters who might, in no small way, have to face life with the hole of his loss. We had dinner with him - one of the best nights I've had in a long time, probably my entire life. We drank the good wine, told the great stories and said "I love you" without thinking about it. He and his wife recently traveled to Paris -- a top destination on my bucket list. I teased Jim about taking me there for my big 3-0 next year. 30 in Paris, what would be better. His uncle said - do it. Don't wait. I hope we hold on to that. Not that we go to Paris necessarily, but that we seize every opportunity - every day. It's so easy to get caught up. Date night can wait. The anniversary of the day we met isn't really THAT important. The movie will be there tomorrow, the restaurant will still be serving next Friday. But - none of us knows what our fate is. I wonder how many times Jim's uncle looks back and says - I wish I had taken that trip, surprised her for lunch, hugged them just a little tighter.

So, what's the difference between my beautiful nephew and Jim's uncle? What makes one the beautiful part of life and one the ugly part? Perspective? Maybe. One is at the beginning of life and one is staring down the barrel of the end. But -- aren't we all? I could die tomorrow and when all is said and done -- was my ride a beautiful one? That isn't decided by fate or circumstance -- it's decided by me. I can get fighting mad, or I can get mad and fight. I can sit down and take it as it comes -- or I can make it happen. I can't cure cancer. I can't make the hurt that life deals us go away. But, I can remind myself every day of my sweet nephew and the promise of new life. And, I can remind myself of Jim's uncle and the reality that life here on Earth is temporary and unpredictable. That's life, baby.

Just Deal.

I talk about death daily. Once people at work find out you own a funeral home --- it comes up. I blog about it frequently. I profess to have great understanding and knowledge on how the rest of you should deal with death -- I being the expert, of course. SO. NOT. TRUE.

Five years ago I fell in love with a brown eyed, blond furred golden retriever named Gibson. We've been inseparable ever since. My husband had him for several years before I came along -- but Gibson and I were meant to be. Both shy, needy, sometimes awkward, love to sleep --- it was a match made in Heaven. Gibson is now 16 years old. I know, you're thinking -- 16 years old?! And he's still alive? Yes he is. And, he will live forever -- thank you very much.

We had a scare the other night and thought for certain the time had come to put Gibson to sleep. "Put him to sleep" sounds nice doesn't it? When the words came out of Jim's mouth, all I could think was we are going to kill him - not "put him to sleep". You wake up from sleep.

Jim wanted Gibson to spend his last night at home -- so he made a pallet on the floor, fed him 12 dozen dog treats and talked to him like it was any other day. Even talked to him about the people he would meet in Heaven. I, on the other hand, sat on the couch -- on the verge of tears, repulsed. My best bud is going to die and we're having a slumber party in the living room?! I couldn't handle it. Didn't know what to do, what to say. And, found my self putting as much physical and emotional distance between Gibson and I as I could. In the morning, I couldn't face the idea of going to the vet and watching -- literally watching -- Gibson die. I tried to get out of it, but it was obvious Jim thought I needed to be there. As we waited at home to leave for the vets office -- I mopped the floors. Why not? What else is one to do in times like these but mop?

Long story short -- my furry love is Ok. Still 16 years old, but doing pretty darn well. My point: people deal with grief, death, dying --- differently. Maybe I "should" have handled it better -- I am in the business, afterall. But, at the end of the day we are all doing the best we can. So have patience. Have faith and be there for those who don't know what to do in the face of death. Because honestly, none of us really know what to do -- even those of us who do it for a living.

unwilling to vacate.

Most of us aren't unwilling to vacate. So, why write a blog about it --- I'm getting there.

I was listening to the radio this week and came in on the tail end of a conversation about death. Of course, I turned up the volume. Apparently, the problem with death is that people are unwilling to vacate life. Umm....duh. I could have gone on the radio and said that. But....stay with me.

I starting thinking about things we are willing to vacate. I stopped counting after I got to "pretty much everything". We fly on a plane and gladly vacate our seat once we have landed safely in our final destination. We buy a home, and though it may at times be bitter-sweet, vacate when necessary. We vacate jobs. We vacate posts and positions we hold. We vacate marriages at a staggering rate. We aren't afraid to let go and move on from things we deem to be "temporary".

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:18 (NIV)

Huh. Now you're starting to get my point. (when, by the way, did I become an evangelist I'm not sure --- but stay with me)

God tells us that what we see is temporary - all of it. The house we made a home - temporary. The job we worked so hard for - temporary. Some of us struggle to realize that these "things" are not important, but most would agree they are temporary. You've never seen a hearse with a luggage rack -- as the saying goes. We readily vacate things we know we may never see again. READILY!! We pack up and move -- sometimes never looking back. We walk out of a job on our last day and never set foot in the building again. Why then, is it so hard for us to let go of something else temporary (ie: Earthy life) when we know our eternal life is forever??

"Well Miranda, I don't want to die because I don't want to leave my family." Guess what - God says you'll see them again. Oh, you already knew that? Then what's the problem? Imagine it's like a long vacation or business trip and at the end - we'll all stand at the pearly gates and catch up. I haven't totally reassured you and made you get over your fear of death? Darn - I was hoping I was that good. 

Your fear of death isn't about leaving your family on this side -- its that you won't see them again on the other side. That my friends is a lack of faith. I think I've realized most fear of death boils down to a lack of faith. Its that one little whisper of doubt. What if this life really is IT? What if this God-thing is a hoax? What if Heaven is a beautiful illusion that helps me make this life bearable? What if, what if, what if.

I haven't really solved the problem here, but maybe I've identified part of it for you.

He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." Matthew 17:20 (NIV)

Faith as small as a mustard seed people!! That's all we need. Sure, we'll doubt. We'll lose loved ones and struggle with not being able to talk to them or touch them everyday. Sure we'll sit in church and wonder if all these amazing promises are going to come true. I don't have all the answers. But I do know this: I can muster up faith the size of a mustard seed. I can hold onto that when death seems too permanent and life far too temporary. You can too. It's like George Michael says "Ya gotta have faith".

Kharma's a .....Reality.

No, I didn't convert to Buddhism this week - but I have been thinking
a lot about kharma. For my fellow Christians -- lets call it reaping
and sowing. For the rest of you -- "what goes around, comes around". I
used to think of that only in the negative sense. I remember my mom
using the phrase when I would tell her about some wrong I suffered at
school. "Don't worry Miranda, what goes around comes around".

I see more dead people than the average person -- comes with the job.
I see families, I see friends --- trust me when I say, I see it ALL.
On one of our most recent death calls, what I noticed most was the look
on the face of the person who had passed. I had never met him before -
but I can tell you with positive certainty that he didn't have many
regrets in life. His family mourned the loss of a wonderful husband
and father. He loved and was loved. He lived an honorable life. And,
he most definitely saw the face of God as he entered the Kingdom of
Heaven.

What, you ask, does that have to do with kharma. A LOT. Do you think
the peace on his face came from a life of walking over other people,
of saying unkind things, of chosing what felt good rather than what
was right? Doubt it. Kharma lasts forever folks -- and I mean,
FOREVER. It's represented physically on the faces of those who go to
meet Jesus. On the hearts of the families who had the privledge of
loving and being loved by an amazing mom, dad, sibling. It's
represented eternally by where we spend our time after my van comes
and picks you up.

So, my friends - don't forget kharma. Don't forget the Golden Rule. It
has as much to do with death as it does with how you live your life.
Think about the family and friends you will leave behind --- did you
love them in the best way you could? Think about the homeless man on
the street --- do you really need that $5 in your purse? Yes, he might
by booze with it - but he might look at your kindness and see the face
of God -- for me, its worth the gamble.

My kharma blog got a little preachy -- but kindness, thoughtfulness
and gratitude is so lacking in this world that I felt the need to
climb my soap box, get as high as I could and send a message. When me
or another funeral director comes to pick you up -- what will they
see? A bickering family? A face full of torment and regret? Or an
outpouring of love for a life well lived and lived well. More
importantly, what will HE see when you leave this life to forever
dwell with Him?

Wait....I'm Not Immortal?!

Get really close to the computer and pay attention to this one folks....we're all gonna die. I know, I was shocked too.

 Living in the death care business, you think I would be very aware of my own mortality. Nope. Death is what happens to other people -- people we pick up from their homes or hospitals amid an array of grieving family members. Death is what happens to other people, not me.  So I was shocked, about two weeks ago, to suddenly realize that not only am I going to die --- it could happen any time. 

 I was laying in bed when the realization hit me. And when I say hit me -- it hit me. After a series of particularly difficult death calls and too much Red Bull -- I couldn't sleep. I laid awake and thought about my life. Thought about why I was here and what I would leave behind. Leave behind? Wait, in order for me to leave behind anything -- I would have to go somewhere. Whoa. I'm going somewhere....!!! Well, that's OK. I've told people a hundred times that I'm not afraid of death because I know where I'm going. I'm going to meet Jesus, so its all good. The part I didn't factor into the equation is that I have to leave this life to move onto the next one --- and last time I checked, that involves dying. 


So, I'm gonna die. I'm gonna be a death call for a funeral director. I'm gonna be a backache for the poor guy who has to dig my grave (unless they just vaporize us and zap us into space on flying cars by then....who knows?) I'm gonna die. Sorry to keep repeating it, but once it sinks in, it really sinks in. Now, I have no intention of going anywhere soon -- but being fully aware of your own mortality really puts life into perspective. Will anyone come to my funeral? Of course that would be my first thought. Do enough people like me to take time out of their day to mourn my passing?? I must remember to tell the funeral home to serve good food. And wine...that will draw a crowd. 


All of this aside -- the past few weeks of contemplating my own death have brought me to several conclusions. One, none of us really expect to die and unfortunately live as though we have all the time in the world. Two, Carpe Diem! I know that made this blog just take a turn toward cheesy town, but its true. I want a tattoo -- so I'm getting one. (sorry Hubbs). I want to go to Israel - so I'm going. (again, sorry Hubbs). The lawn can get mowed tomorrow, the dishes will still be in the sink and the laundry will continue to pile -- but the time I can spend with family and friends -- that's what really matters. And Three, I really need to start recruiting for my funeral. 
 

Better Late Than Never.....

We say it all the time, better late than never, when we send a belated birthday card, return a library book 2 months after it was due, get to work late because there was "traffic". But sometimes in life, late is just.... too late. I've seen, more times than I like to count, families unwilling or unable to put aside past grievances to make amends with the dying. Once the dying become the deceased -- the window of burying the hatchet (pardon the pun) has been closed, sealed and will not open again until we all get where we're going.

I recently reached out to a family member I hadn't spoken to in nearly 6 years. While, admittedly, the rift was over something silly -- it still took me 6 years to get up the courage to make the first move. What if I was rejected? What if they didn't want anything to do with me? Well, at least I would know. My story ends happily -- we reconnected and are working on rebuilding our relationship. Part of what prompted my move was the thought of getting a call that he had passed -- and never having the chance to say the things I needed to say. I suppose living every day in the death care business makes me more aware and sensitive to these situations - but I still believe it is a reality we all need to face. All of us -- yes, ALL OF US, have someone we've lost touch with. Sometimes the distance is over a dispute, sometimes its simply life and the passage of time. What about that best friend you had in high school that your haven't spoken to in 20 years. Think it doesn't matter? Wait until you find out they've passed --- it will matter then. What about the brother, sister, cousin you haven't spoken to for God knows how long because of some assumed wrong or hurt. Right now, clinging to your pride and principles -- you feel pretty good. Try sitting at their death bed or at their funeral and wishing like heck you hadn't passed up the opportunity to see them. Swallow your pride, be the bigger person, take the chance - FORGIVE. Forgiveness doesn't mean they were right and you were wrong. Forgiveness means life is too short for you to harbor feelings of hatred or ill-will in your heart. Trust me: do it now, while you still can. I'll step off my soapbox now and resume normal activities. Thank you.

Why the living break my heart

For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord
Romans 6:23


When Jim and I got into the funeral business, I thought for sure the hardest part would be dealing with the deceased. Being a pretty emotional girl, I thought seeing a deceased person would send me into a fit of tears. To my surprise, it's not the dead, but the living who break my heart.

As humans, we try to hold tightly to those we love. Even as Christians -- we may know in our minds and believe in our hearts that death is simply the end of our Earthly lives -- but we still want our loved ones here with us. Maybe its the uncertainty -- that gap that should be filled by faith, that gets tested in the face of death. When we lose a loved one we feel cheated -- no matter how much time we had with them, it wasn't enough. This makes sense in cases of young deaths -- people who didn't get a chance to live a full life. But it also happens with older adults. Senior citizens who, by the calendar at least, have lived a good long life still leave behind struggling, greiving,  and sometimes angry loved ones. How do you fill a void that has been filled by a loving spouse for over half a century? How is that ever enough time to have spent with them? Our vows say "til death do us part" --- but how do you live with the separation? Unless God calls us home together - there is always going to be one left behind.

I've heard people say - "they are in a better place now." Why doesn't that give me any comfort? If something happened to someone I loved -- as wonderful as I imagine Heaven is -- I want them here with me. So I struggle with the living. I can hold the hands of the deaceased, and know they truly are in a better place -- a place with no suffering, no sickness, no pain. But I don't know what to say to the husband who just watched his wife take her last breath or the parents who have outlived a child. What can you say?

I don't know what the right answer is -- I'm not sure there is one. But I've listened to my husband and he always seems to say the right thing. He doesn't talk about the death - but the life of the person. I think memories are the best medicine for grief. You can be burdened and shackled to the death -- or you can be uplifted by the memories of the life. So my wish, for whomever is left behind when I go to meet Jesus - remember my life. Remember that I was a dreamer with my head in the clouds. Remember that I loved Skittles. Remember the time I sat in a tree stand, traveled to Japan, married my best friend. Remember that when I get to Heaven - and I will - that the first thing I will do after hugging my Dad's neck, is ask God to watch over everyone I left behind.

10 Things I've Learned About Funeral Service...

Sorry for the long delay between posts Friends. Hopefully we are back on track now.

Well, we've closed the books on our first month in business. Jim and I are humbled and grateful beyond words for the generous outpouring of trust and support from the Charleston community. We have served so many wonderful families -- some of whom we will have a continued connection with. It's been a month of growing, learning and finding our own in the funeral business. We're a little different -- and people are starting to catch on. It's exciting to see the path that's being set out for us. I've learned so much - I couldn't begin to share it all. So, I've made a list of the TOP TEN.

10 THINGS I'VE LEARNED ABOUT FUNERAL SERVICE:

10 - We are all flawed, fallen, mortal humans. Death is a part of life. Dealing with loss is a part of living.

9 - Waffle House is just as good after a long night of working, as it is after a long night of playing.

8 - True love is being by the bedside of your spouse of over 50 years as they let go of this life.

7 - Morgue attendants are really nice people, not creepy like on TV.

6 - Working 16 hours a day by your husband's side on YOUR business is more satisfying than working 8 for someone else's.

5 - People are buried in caskets, vampires live in coffins. You want to get under a funeral director's skin?? Ask to see his coffins. 

4 - You never know what will connect you to other people - living and passed. I've felt closer to my Dad in the last month than I have my entire 29 years. My husband says he would be proud of me -- and that's something I've waited my whole life to hear...

3 - Nurses are God's angels on earth. They've done it all, seen it all and without a lot of sleep --- and yet, they are always a joy to work with.

2 - You will get looks when driving a hearse.

1 - Life is a gift --- every minute of it. Seeing death on a daily basis helps put insignificant things like bad hair days, bad attitudes and bad traffic into perspective.

Well Friends, I hope you enjoy the rest of your week --- stay tuned for updates!!

MD

Thank you for checking out The Great Undertaking! This is going to be an exciting journey -- and I look forward to sharing it with all of you.

My husband and I started SIMPLICITY Lowcountry Cremation & Burial Services in Charleston, South Carolina as an alternative to the "traditional" funeral home. A little less than a month in to business ownership - we are learning a lot about the funeral industry, our selves and our marriage.

I grew up in the funeral industry. My grandfather, father and uncle were all funeral directors. My father passed away when I was a baby -- but I imagine he is getting a good chuckle now -- watching his daughter marry a fellow funeral director -- and start a life in the death care business.

My husband has been a funeral director for over 15 years. People often ask "how did you get into that line of work"?? My answer: its a calling. You must have a heart for the hurting, the patience of Job and the ability to find joy in LIFE, while serving families who are dealing with death. My husband was truly called to serve as a funeral director. He is calm, fluid and easygoing in any situation. He puts families at ease and takes everything in stride. I, on the other hand, am better at life than I am at death. But, that's what makes this journey interesting......