Hey Readers!
First and foremast, I want to give a big THANK YOU to everyone who filled out the survey sent last week. Your feedback helps me make A Busy Lady great. Can you believe it? A Busy Lady is read in 15 States and 3 countries! Wow!
This week, I’m sorry I don’t have any “Busy Lady tips” or thoughts on reaching for your dreams. The truth is, it’s been a busy week (no pun intended).
Some highlights . . .
I met with an artist to discuss the cover design for my novel, All These Threads of Time. I can’t wait to see the concepts he comes up with. I’m against using AI for book covers specifically (something I’ll write about more in another post). Meeting with the artist solidified this stance, as it reminded me how collaborating with another on your vision is one of the most beautiful things about being a creator (whether writer, filmmaker, painter, illustrator, or creator of any kind) because it gives your art life, as you bravely set it out into the world to inspire other creations with it.
I’m currently banging my head against the wall plotting out my next novel, but thanks to some great writer friends (you know who you are!) I’m figuring it out. Whatever you do, always have a community around you with trusted mentors, it helps. (Oh, I guess I did give you a tip this week, LOL).
I spent all weekend at the online Catholic Writer’s Conference. It’s a great conference with so much wonderful information that welcomes writers of all faiths. I always love learning from other creators. They’re my people!
Last, but not least, as you know from my post a couple weeks ago, “A Light in the Darkness,” the stretch from February to March is always tough for me because it’s the anniversary of two close family members, one of which is my father. Since today is the 6th year anniversary of my dad’s death - I wanted to honor him today by sharing the Eulogy that I spoke at his funeral.
On the Eulogy:
When my family asked me to speak at my dad’s funeral, I didn’t know if I could. I cried uncontrollably from morning till night after learning of his death, and didn’t think I’d be able to stop crying, much less speak. The writer, who always has words, had none. But then I remembered how much my dad gave to me and others. I knew I had to do it.
The night before his funeral, I could hardly sleep. I ended up just getting up around 3 a.m., and I wrote his eulogy. Unedited, unchanged - I’m sharing it with you today, as raw as it was when I said it.
The thing about writing is it takes bravery and honesty. That’s what resonates with people, and that’s the point. Why create something if doesn’t help someone else?
To this day, people contact me from the funeral and tell me how much these words meant to them. I hope they will mean something to you too.
I’ve turned comments off for this post, but it’s touched in you some way, let me know. You can contact me by directly at the “Message Sarah Crowne” button below.
Till Next Time,
Sarah
AKA A Busy Lady
Eulogy
“Good Morning. My name is Sarah, and I am Dennis’s daughter. It is not easy for me to stand here today, but with the Lord’s grace I stand before you to share with you the many thoughts, memories and heartfelt prayers shared between me, my brother, my father’s wife Linda, our spouses, our children, and all of those here in this room that love my father and have been touched by his life.
My father is by far, the greatest person I have ever known. For much of my life, he did not receive the honor or praise for the many sacrifices he gave to his country and to his family.
He loved unconditionally, gave generously, in ways that cannot be explained. He never wanted anything in return.
The greatest gift my father gave to my brother and I was the unconditional love and time he gave to each and every one of his grandchildren. Watching my father with his grandchildren often reminded us of the many wonderful memories my brother and I share of our Dad.
When I remember our Dad, I think of long walks in the woods, walking beside him and my brother, the pines like giants towering over us, wondering if we might see a deer. I remember long walks down railroad tracks, my father singing somewhere over the rainbow. I remember baseball fields and tickles that made you laugh until it hurt. I think of the many talent shows he hosted in my pretend play, the countless hours of playing school, the time he let me hang all nine planets I had feverishly drawn for his room across his walls with scotch tape. Trips to the movies, a new toy at the store, swimming at the lake. We have watched our father do these very things with his grandchildren. Cheering them on at sport events, sharing his many stories, his endless jokes, giving his complete and undivided attention and time.
Our father was a storyteller. He lived a rich life, with many experiences from being invited to try out to for the LA Dodges, to sacrificing his life in Vietnam. He didn’t care about status, what he drove, where he lived, so long as his children and grandchildren were taken care of. He could fix anything with EB tape. He was always up for going out to eat and he never let you pay. He had fierce tenacity. He told me recently that when he was a child, he was actually terrible at baseball. The kids made fun of him, so he went home and he practiced every day, throwing the ball against the garage wall, catching it with his mitt. “The hours I spent practicing” he told me. “But you know what, the next season, I was the best on the field.”
Our father was never afraid of doing what was right, even if it meant he would lose. He told me once that he worked for a corner grocery store as teenager, delivering groceries. He delivered groceries to an old man that lived alone, in squall, “with rats” my father said. The man needed help putting his groceries away. Our father, of course, stayed and helped the man put away his groceries. He was later fired because his boss said he took too long making deliveries. But our father didn’t care. “I couldn’t leave him” he said. That was our father. Giving everything no matter the worldly consequence. He was after all, the man that saved his entire army squad from an exploding tank in Vietnam.
I say to you today, what you already know, that death is the most difficult goodbye of all. It is the most difficult because we were never made to say it. God’s original plan for us was to live forever. It is our free will and sin that separate us from Him. Do not blame God for taking our loved ones before we are ready. Praise Him for giving us our loved ones who have shaped our lives in unimaginable and unexplainable ways. For people like my father, who lived with fierce love, who never gave up, who believed in second and third chances and was willing to walk the line for you.
None of us know the time we have on this earth. You may die today. It is not the amount of time we have, but the way in which we use it. I pray that each and every one of you are filled with grace, joy, and peace, knowing that the Lord gave his only begotten son, Jesus Christ, to die on the cross for each and every one of you and your sins, giving you all eternal life, if you are willing to humble yourself and believe in Him. I know your pain. I know the raging loneliness and draining grief you now feel. You walk hallways in a silent house. You catch yourself calling his name, reaching for his hand. You will watch the world move along without him and it will make you angry.
But today I want to tell you this. That all farewells are on the clock, but they are not forever. On heaven’s calendar there is aday circled in red, the day we will all be united again.
For Thessaloinans 4:16-18 states, “For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of thearchangel, and with the trump of God: the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caughtup together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.”
We will see you again Dennis. Dad. Grandpa. Until that day we will carry you in our hearts and make our lives worth living, just like you did.
God bless all of you and thank you for coming today.“
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