Funerals always make me introspective.

This week, as I sat listening to family share their stories, I was reminded how often we forget to tell one another the things we love most about each other. Why wait until a loved one is gone to tell someone what they mean to you?

This week, I’ve also had Miranda Lambert’s song, “The House that Built Me,” playing through my head. We are made up of people and places, whether for good or bad, they are a part of us. They made us who we are.

In the end, this week reminded me to take stock of what really matters. What we are remembered for? What makes a fulfilling life? Are our words filled with love and grace? Will we be remembered for our patience and kindness? When people gather to remember us, what will they say? Can they say those things now? Why don’t we?

Yes, funerals make me ask questions. Good questions. Questions that remind me not to get caught up in the mundane ups and downs. Questions that remind me that each word and action will have an impact, whether for good or ill.

How will you be remembered?

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