The Funeral

Some years ago, a friend of mine had occasion to attend the funeral service of an uncle, one of his dad’s brothers.  Due to his parent's ages and health, my friend and one of his brothers were his family's representatives to make the three hour drive from East Tennessee to the small rural North Carolina mountain church for the service.  The week after the funeral, my friend related to a group of us his story of that memorable funeral.  Some stories you hear and enjoy, others you remember a long time; this one, I just had to write down.  This story is my my best recollection of what my friend shared about that trip, the funeral, and the symbolism of that day.  I've tried to put it into my friends words and I enjoy it every time I think of it and I hope you will too.
 

As my friend recalled, “We boys didn’t really didn’t know our uncle very well, but our mental image of him was not a good one.”  He was an alcoholic most of his adult life, but had been sober the last 22 years.  I remember my dad talking about how he had been unkind to his wife and kids in the early years.  He was a hard man with a drinking problem.  And thus, our family had never been close to our Uncle's family and I didn’t know him very well.

Our dad’s family had their roots in the mountains of western North Carolina and our uncle had continued to live in the region until his death.  As my brother and I made the drive over into the mountains for the funeral, we eventually made our way to a small country church sitting on a hilltop.  The view of the mountains and surrounding area was picturesque and pastoral in every way.  The deep greens of hilltop pastures and forested mountains on this beautiful June day were a delight to see. As is the case with many country churches, the cemetery was located only a few feet from the doors of the church.

The funeral was well attended, maybe 150 people in all.  It was obvious that our once wayward uncle had mended his ways during the past 22 years of his sobriety and his children, nieces and nephews were present to pay their respect to a man they loved and honored.

The preacher who delivered the funeral sermon, built his remarks around our Uncle's long struggle with Satan and alcohol and how he had eventually overcome the powers of evil.  Two of his nieces gave a family eulogy describing many of the good aspects they remembered about his life.  There was not a dry eye in the church when they sat down.
 

The church funeral ended and the coffin was carried the short distance to the cemetery and placed over a freshly dug grave.  Everyone moved to the grave site and the preacher stood at the head of the coffin, his back to a fence that separated the graveyard from an adjoining pasture.  The family, extended family and others gathered beside and around the grave site.  There was not a cloud in that clear western Carolina sky, the air was cool.  It was one of God’s perfect days. 
 

As the pastor began his graveside comments several curious Holstein cows from the neighboring pasture gathered at the fence directly behind the preacher and commenced to stand and watch the proceedings.  The preacher began to make his graveside comments, building on the same theme of our uncle's struggles, but ultimate victory over sin and Satan.  My brother and I were standing to the side and rear of the preacher with a good view of the grass area between the preacher and the pasture fence.  As the preacher delivered his graveside eulogy, we noticed a four foot black snake begin to slither its way toward the preacher.  It was heading straight for the preacher’s feet and then on to the coffin.  You can imagine the mental symbolism spinning through my head as the snake made its way deliberately toward our uncle's final resting place. 
 

Our uncle was a Veteran and there was a military Honor Guard from the local V.F.W. to give him the rights of a military burial.  The military Guard stood behind the preacher and was composed of seven 70-80 year old veterans with their rifles shouldered awaiting their time for the 21 gun salute.  As the snake approached the line of old veterans, one caught a glimpse of it and lowered his rifle and placed the butt of the gun on the snake’s head.  The snake writhed and coiled back as if to strike and then proceeded again toward the preacher who was still delivering his comments about a victorious struggle over Satan.  The old guardsman was persistent and with a few more pokes from the rifle butt, the snake finally surrendered and slithered back toward the pasture.  Everyone who witnessed these activities breathed a sigh of relief that the snake had departed, a major disruption avoided and perhaps Satan defeated again.
 

As the preacher concluded his remarks, the old sergeant gave the command for the firing of the 21 gun salute.  In the pristine silence of this mountain top setting the first volley of shots rang out.  The Holstein cows who had been quietly observing the funeral suddenly became animated, bolting away from the fence; literally stampeding in the opposite direction.  They had topped the first hill as the second volley rang out and were virtually out of sight by the third and final volley.
 

Despite the solemnity of the occasion there was a chuckle or two and a wisp of a smile across many of our faces as one fella said, “I bet those cows won’t give any milk for a week!”