Funeral & Family Time in KY; Cherished Action Happens Again

The last weekend of February was spent in central Kentucky with my Watts relatives. We gathered in Winchester to remember and honor my Dad's sister, Fannie Watts Palmer. Her minister described her as a humble, quiet country woman of few words. She was a faithful woman - to God, her church, and her family. She touched the hearts and impacted the lives of many...the funeral home was packed. Eighteen of us first cousins were there plus many second cousins, grandchildren and great grandchildren. Aunt Fannie had expressed her love for us and others in so many caring ways.

I appreciate Aunt Fannie's support and encouragement of my Christian Education ministry; I did several programs with puppets and more at her church through the years. I cherish her support of my African missions work. She had a special heart for missions. 

Aunt Fannie was a wonderful role model for service. You'd frequently find her in the church kitchen at Epperson First Church of God during various events and funeral dinners plus cooking at Camp Glenn Eden. I was told that if she could not be at a funeral dinner to help serve, she would quietly slip a covered dish into the church ahead.

 What a special treat it was to see all those cousins, two I had not seen in more than 40 years. It was a blessing to spend time after the funeral with some family members. Above is my cousin Pam Pennington, I hold Pam's granddaughter Caroline Grace, Aunt Ruth Abney, and Aunt Mayme Crowe.

There is something I’ll always remember and cherish. It happened again 42+ years later. It comforted my heart and lifted my spirits back on that cold rainy day in October 1967 as the funeral procession followed my dear beloved father to his burial place a few miles away. Cars coming the opposite direction pulled to the side of the road and waited for the procession to go by - out of respect for the deceased and sympathy for the grieving. No laws demanding you stop and wait as with a school bus stopping to pick up students. It deeply touched this then 14-year old broken heart that these complete strangers gave a hoot about our deep loss.

I thought things had probably changed after more than 42 years…but it happened again. This trip from funeral home to cemetery was longer, but four lanes across a divided highway some people pulled off the road to wait for our procession to go by. Again, my deeply grieving heart was comforted by this silent yet powerful act of kindness. It makes me proud to be a native of Winchester, Kentucky.