There may be nothing more difficult than writing a funeral sermon for a dear relative. What does one say? What memories from the vast storehouse does one offer? Well, I've finished my course with my cousin, Ginger. And the one and only memory I wanted to share (or could share) was a recent one featuring a hamburger.
Just twelve weeks ago, we ate our final hamburger together at the Moonshine Inn (Illinois, population 2). I made note of the fact that dozens of people had driven for miles, many from many states away, just to get a taste of a Moonshine hamburger. There was excitement in the air, and it was obvious that many people had set aside an entire day just to experience the Moonshine Inn.
Although I was not excited about doing my cousin's funeral, I was excited about my memory of the hamburger and my day with her and I hoped that others would find excitement in their lives--the kind my cousin exhibited every time we were together. Small things matter.
I know I'll never eat a hamburger in quite the same way again. I might even think of Ginger whenever I bite into one.
The Free Methodist Church of Robinson offered our family a great lunch after the burial. It was wonderful. Great food. No complaints. But I would have loved to have had a hamburger. I think there was a story there. And some day I'm going to write it.
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