It’s just another way I am not like most people. How many of you think of an ice cream cone when you go to the funeral home?

There is a good reason I do this.

Going to the funeral home was an old family tradition on my mother’s side. They were very involved in the local church and school, so anytime somebody passed away in the community, we all piled into Papaw’s station wagon and headed there.

As I grew older, I got to the point where I didn’t want to go to the funeral home. For one thing, I was a little tomboy who didn’t like having to put on a dress and stay clean. Second, if there were no other kids there, I had to sit with the adults, who expected me to be still and quiet. That’s not an easy task when you have an abundance of energy and nothing to occupy your mind.

If other kids were there that I knew, we would gather on a pew in the very back. Nonetheless, our parents still expected us to be quite and not “cause a scene.” Like that was going to happen. Naturally, one of us usually became too loud and/or rambunctious. I remember a couple of times when one of us was drug out of the chapel by the arm. We all knew what that meant.

So, what did I do when I was told we needed to go to the funeral home? Like any kid, I whined. Why did I have to go and why couldn’t I stay with somebody else while they all went there. Of course, I had to go too.

My sweet Papaw came up with a great idea. Just down the road from the funeral home was an ice cream shop. He told me if I went and I was good, he would stop there on the way home and get me and him ice cream cones.

What better bribe for a kid? Needless to say, I didn’t fuss any more when it was time to head to the funeral home. Instead I got excited because I knew I would be getting an ice cream cone.

That has stuck with me over the years. I still cherish the memory of being with Papaw and picking out our ice creams flavors. I usually chose chocolate and Papaw got vanilla. At one time, I asked why we went to the funeral home so often. I was told we needed to pay our respects. You see, respect is an important part of our culture here in the mountains of East Tennessee.

Even when we are out driving and we come upon a funeral, we pull over to the side of the road and put on our hazards lights until the funeral procession is through. I have known people from other parts of the country who are amazed that we do that. I tell them it’s just part of our southern charm.

Here, we all know to have respect for the Lord, our neighbors, and our fellow man.

“Honour all men. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honour the king.” 1 Peter 2:17 (KJV)

And you can even look at it this way. For those who know the Lord, there is hope after death. In fact, there is always hope from Him.

“For thou art my hope, O Lord God: thou art my trust from my youth.” Psalm 71:5 (KJV)

Even now I want a treat when we go to the funeral home. I had my husband stop at a Starbucks one time on our way there. He couldn’t believe I wanted to do that. Our daughter Sara was still young and she wanted something too. So now when we go the funeral home, Tim knows to stop at Starbucks.