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| True Friendship's Youth & Young Adult President, Jaila Brooks and Yours Truly, True Friendship's Youth Minister |
Colette was a sweet old lady that didn't take anybody's stuff, but never had to either. She was the secretary for the head man in charge to whom many tried to have removed from office, even though everybody knew it was Colette who actually ran the show. The people came to Colette for what they needed, although she didn't have the authority to give, yet she gave more than she had. I said, 'see ya later' to Colette in January.
Joyce spent a lifetime trying to help children better themselves. She didn't have a whole lot, but what she had, she invested into young people. She had plenty of young people of her own, but still supported and encouraged the youngsters with her finances. $5 for every "A" on your report card. For those that struggled scholastically, perhaps their $5 came from an "E" in Effort or Cooperation. I said, 'see ya later' to Joyce eight days later in February.
I didn't know Joycelyn well. I knew she was one of my best-est friend's (in the whole wide world) sister. She was a nice lady that appreciated me for comforting her family about a year or so ago. Besides my buddy, she had two other brothers who were just as cool as my buddy; a wonderful mother who cut her peaches into smaller pieces for her peach cobbler, "So everyone could have some." As nice as she was, I said, 'see ya later' fourteen days later in March.
Big Don was a real cool dude that I met when I was a youngster hanging out in the bowling alley. I hadn't seen Don in at least thirty years, but I remembered the guy and how smooth he was, just as if he had walked into the building right now. Nobody messed with the guy because he was larger than life, but nobody ever had a reason to bother him. I found out by happenstance that a good friend of mine was his niece who I was honored to serve as the officiating minister at her wedding. What's really whacky is, I said, 'see ya later' to Big Don just the day before the wedding in April.
Talk about best friends. My best friend's grandfather, who we all called, "Granddaddy" was by far the coolest dude I knew. Was still driving wherever he needed to go at 100 years old; pastoring the church he organized and founded; outlived all of his respective wives, while remaining faithful to them all; and simply loved people. One of my favorite pictures was taken with him while seated with my best friend who is a preacher, my best friend's father who was a pastor and has since gone on to be with the Lord, another great friend of ours who is now a pastor, and the current pastor of the church that Granddaddy organized. I was honored to share words on behalf of, "Family Friends" of a man that lived 104 years on the day I said, 'see ya later' to Granddady, May 4th.
I never met Linda while she was alive, but I knew my wife, Bridgette's best friend, who I have grown to have a love-can't stand brother-sister relationship. This chick for some reason can't figure out that she sends text messages to my phone number, EVERY time, thinking that she's texting Bridgette. So, I decided to stop telling her she has the wrong number, and just answer as if she's talking to her best friend. After a while, the light bulb comes on, because there's no way that my wife would say some of the things that I do. One day, I met her mother Linda as she laid peacefully. Others that knew her well, said the same as I did that day, 'see ya later'. That day just happened to be the day after I said it to Granddaddy, May 5th.
Now talk about cool. A man's man Andre was. He was a French-Canadian guy that played professional hockey and married a beautiful German woman. They had children to include my best female friend who had my God-daughter by a Mexican dude, who happens to be my other best friend. The whole multiple best friend thing was weird to me for the longest. One of my daughters was best friends with my best friend's daughter, but one day I heard her say that another girl was her best friend, and my best friend's daughter called another girl her best friend one day. So I asked, how can so and so be your best friend, and so and so can be your best friend, when the both of you are best friends? They both said, you can have more than one best friend! Well, just a moment ago as I was typing this piece, I realized, they're right. Andre and his family mean the world to me. I couldn't imagine my everyday being without them around. After all, Andre allowed a Mexican guy to be with his American French-Canadian-German- daughter, who was best friends with a Black guy from South-Central LA. And to top it off, the Baptist Preaching Black guy from the hood said, 'see ya later' to the French-Canadian guy as I officiated his pseudo Catho-Baptist funeral, May 17th. I probably should mention the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed all the Poutine at the repast!
My Uncle Rudy was always a hit with anybody he came in contact with. He was one of Detroit's finest (not a cop, just the finest of all of Detroit.) I will never forget the day I saw him (300 plus pounds) sitting on a bareback horse that couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds. This horse may have been a mule-it was so skinny. Rudy loved family, and family loved Rudy. He would be the second uncle of mine that I would say, 'see ya later' to within a year, on May 29th.
Mom's cousin Matt is often said to be the Marvin Gaye of the family. That dude was smooth all the way around; the way he dressed, the way he walked, the way he talked, just smooth. I especially enjoyed it when he got on the dance floor. It wasn't much more than a two step, but man, he made it look like it was choreographed for the Temptations. I remember spending summer weekends at his apartment with my cousin Lil David. We just did stupid kid stuff around the house, which wasn't that big of a deal. But one day, we did something that we were told very sternly over and over again-not to do. We got the worst whooping ever, which was nothing more than me getting caught with one swat of the belt that barely touched me! Even getting hit with a belt by Matt, was one of the coolest things ever. I was honored to say, 'see ya later' to Matt through my eulogy, which was one of my best preaching moments, June 16th.
My buddy and I would sit at work in the office the entire night reminiscing and telling our favorite comedian's jokes. Without any prompting, in the stillness of the night, one could start a line from a movie or a stand up routine, and the other would finish it, then both of us would just crack up laughing. He would tell me of his mom's struggles from a stroke she had one day after the holidays that just turned his life upside down. We would share our individual upbringings, and although we both grew up just above the total poverty line, there was a lot of love from our mothers that we could easily compare the same stories. Knowing that the sun was on its way down, it was difficult for me to find the words to comfort and encourage him. I didn't know how to offer her, but at the same time, I think my buddy already knew that whenever he needed a "Mom's" in the physical sense, my mother would be right there for him. I was very grateful to moms for coming to my buddy's mother's farewell, as I stood in the pulpit and said, 'see ya later' to Mother Diann Ford on June 24th.
Our Small Family Reunion was in Shreveport/Mansfield, Louisiana this year. It was a great time of fellowship with the family down in the country. A part of the reunion was on the property where my mother, and her father were raised. Down the Road, which is named after my grandfather, George Small Road, is the church where my grandparents were members (New Friendship Baptist Church.) I had been there at least 20 or 30 times over the years. The family reunion church service was there, and as I took my seat in the pews, the pastor of the church walked up and asked if I was a preacher. I told him, yes, to which he asked me to step into his office. I figured I would get a chance to sit in the pulpit area at best, but when we got into his office, he asked if I would preach the morning message. Talk about overwhelming humbleness. Oh my! It wasn't until just before I preached that the pianist sang the sermonic solo, "Amazing Grace." (Insert Florida Evans moment here.) I almost couldn't contain myself as it dawned on me, I was about to preach from the pulpit, just inches away from where my grandfather laid during his funeral. Then, in 1978, I was just a boy of 8 years old, and never been exposed to a funeral of someone that close to me. Now fastforward 37 years; I was already preaching without a manuscript for the first time, in front of my family to which some had never heard me preach before; in front of a pastor that moments earlier didn't even know I was a preacher (which NEVER happens in the Baptist church); and with the weight of pride from the entire Small family on my shoulders. July 5, I did some of the best preaching of my life. I've only felt it once or twice, but that day, I felt good, and I mean, real good preaching. It was nobody but God that did it. Thank You Jesus!
Paula was my ecumenical mentor's wife, and one of my best preaching/pastoring friend's mother. She loved me! She would smiiiiiiiiile whenever I saw her. She was one of my best supporters. She didn't say much, but wouldn't miss the opportunity to give me a warm embrace, grab my face, and kiss my cheek. For the longest, I ran from preaching, so you know, I never wanted to be the senior pastor of a church. I believe with a high degree of certainty, had her son (my good friend) not been a preacher, she very well may have insisted I take the job as the pastor of the church she attended. And yes, she may have been the one person - had she asked me to consider it, I would have. Shockingly, not even a whole year after Deacon David passed away, I would say, 'see ya later' to Deaconess Paula Bolding on July 8th.
Rickey was one of the greatest hit songwriters and musicians of all time. I think I was about nine years old when one of the all-time best gospel recordings came out. Some 35 years later, after I would have traveled across the United States of America with Rickey and our local chapter choir of the GMWA; played instruments together on a recording; having him as a special guest at concerts I hosted, Rickey would autograph that album I held on to since I was a child. I was excited and honored to have played drums during his memorial concert, as well as being an associate minister at the church where his father serves as the Senior Pastor, and his mother as the First Lady; I stayed behind at Forest Lawn, Hollywood Hills after everyone left to fellowship at the repast, watching the groundsmen replace and manicure the grass of his grave. As the men walked away, so did I, saying, 'see ya later' to Rickey Grundy on August 8th.
Warren Johnson was one of the founding members of the Southern California Chaplains' Association, a group of chaplains that serve police officers, firefighters, correctional officers, hospitals, and the military. I met Warren at the 20th Anniversary of the SCCA, and as the President of the association, I presented Warren with a Lifetime Achievement Award for the group. It was one of the highlights of my presidency. His funeral was held at the Salvation Army sanctuary, where I was dressed in Class A Police Uniform with hundreds of others donned in police, fire, and military dress uniform; I said, 'see ya later' to Warren on September 2nd.
Maurice, I really liked that guy. We didn't spend much time together as he had been sick quite a while, and he moved kind of far away. But, he was one of the deacons that helped train me when I was going through the process to become an ordained deacon. I never-ever heard a crossed word from him. He did a great work for people by running the food-pantry ministry at our church. He was also the uncle to some of the young ladies that are a part of our youth and young adult ministry. It was at his burial service that it hit me real hard. I mean, I was doing ok until this one moment. I saw his young niece sitting at the graves between her grandfather, and her uncle (who was only 16, the same age as she is, when he passed away.) The family continued to point out several graves within the immediate area. Grandmother, grandfather, sister, daughter, uncle. Then, pointing to the other side of the hill of the cemetery, another grandmother and grandfather were buried. Then another gut-punch caught me, the mother of one of the young men that attends the church, her grave was pointed out, to which I noticed how young she was when she passed away.
But here it is; the real meat and potatoes of what got me to write this blog. Although it is not the theme, really it's not (even though all I've written about is people that have passed on), these are just the thoughts that are in my mind. Well, why are you thinking so much about death? I'm not. Stay with me for just another few seconds and I'll state my point of all of this.
People always ask, "Why do you go to so many funerals? You couldn't possibly know all of those people. Are you a freak or something and just like hanging around dead people?" Not! Thankfully I'm not as geeked out as I use to be around them. The young lady that I told you about, sitting between the graves of her grandfather and uncle; she's one of my [Youth and Young Adult] members. Her mother approached me as we walked to the graveside, and simply said, "Thank you." I stopped and said, "But, I didn't do anything." She replied, "You did more than you'll ever know. You're here." It was the most sincere and genuine note of gratitude I had ever heard.
Here it is. The point of all the aforementioned...
It is not about what you say or do that makes the difference to people in difficult times; it is the ministry of your presence that makes the difference.
Thanks for reading what was, "On my mind!"
Ryan
*So far this year has held the least number of funerals, year to date, that I have attended. On average over the last three years, I attended 30-32 funerals of people I know. So far, there have been 14. I pray there are no others this year.
