A Country Funeral

Early yesterday morning, we once again made the sad journey back to Sequoyah County to attend a funeral.  A close family member and dear friend's husband had passed suddenly while on vacation.

It was a simple graveside service marked by great dignity and compassion. Around two hundred people gathered and stood under the trees in the gentle Oklahoma morning to mark the passing of a good man. Family members, friends and local business people all gathered to pay their final respects.

He was laid to rest in the perfectly manicured family plot of one of that small village's most prominent families.  The plot is surrounded by giant, native oak trees and sits in the shadow of venerable old Pine Mountain.

The sermon, while handled with great tact, was powerful. At the request of the family, the Gospel was presented and an invitation offered.  As the invitation was offered, the quiet of the otherwise still morning was suddenly broken by a gentle, steady wind in the treetops. a sign of the movement of the Holy Spirit to the faithful.  After the sermon, two people quietly announced to the pastor that they had made spiritual decisions.

After the service, we were invited to lunch at a nearby church.  When we arrived, a banquet room had been been set up for us with real china, silver, stemware and cloth napkins.  The meal was as good as any caterer could have provided.  After we ate, an incredibly talented eleven year old family member sang for us.   I was so impressed with her performance that I gave her the ukulele that I carry around in the car to play at odd moments. She was extremely grateful and several sweet, little girl hugs were offered.  Her smile alone was worth the trip.

As I looked around the room, I couldn't help but marvel at the group.  The majority of the crowd consisted of four generations of the same family.  There were successful business people, respected athletes, long time educators and three generations of girls who sang like angels from the cradle  ... a host of good, solid, small town folks, all the progeny of one man and one woman.

I remember that man and woman fondly.  In quiet moments, I can still see them in my mind, him sitting in his chair reading his Bible and smoking his pipe after work, her in the kitchen turning out meal after fabulous meal for her hungry brood and whoever else was around at mealtime.  It was a humble home but a solid one.  It was a pious home but a fair one.  He was not afraid to apply the principles of the Bible to the backside of his sometimes rambunctious offspring and she was not afraid to the apply the same biblical principles to soothe ruffled spirits and mend broken hearts.

As I drove up the turnpike on the way back to Tulsa, a deep, deep anger built within me. How dare the United States Supreme Court equate the filthy things that two homosexuals do to each other with the blessed, holy, marital union that those two godly people shared.  Adam and Steve will never produce four generations of the most solid people in a community. Ellen and Elaine will never bless multiple generations by being Godly people.  Nature itself will not allow it. That is why that until just a few years ago, the things that homosexuals do to each other were truthfully called "crimes against nature."

Make no mistake.  If America does not rise up and crush the cultural jihad against marriage being waged by the homosexual rights movement, our nation, our culture and even our families are doomed and gatherings like we attended yesterday will die with our generation.

Bill and Sheila Face the "New Normal"

Yesterday was "Tulsa Pride Day."  I have never understood why parading your sexual preference around the streets is a cause for pride especially when the behavior is shameful.  I had no reason to know that it was Tulsa's "Pride" day until I left the house. But then it hit us like a ton of bricks.

We stopped in a neighborhood eatery to split a sandwich for lunch.  In the corner was a slightly built, sixty-ish black man wearing perfectly ironed jeans and a rainbow hued tee shirt.  He was eating alone. The polished delicacy of his hand movements as he oh so diffidently pushed away the remainder of his meal spoke volumes about his opinion of the establishment, their food and the people around him.  He was quiet and dignified and the exquisite disdain he showed for the food and his humble surroundings harked back to a different era of more genteel, less in your face "gayness."

The next table up from him was another matter. A very well dressed and dignified little blue haired lady was apparently having lunch with her son.  The meeting was obviously strained.  The man was in his forties.  His shorts were a little too short and his manner was nervous.  He had brought a touch screen laptop with him to use as a crutch in the long silences over their food.

At a table near the front door there was a tallish young man with beautifully groomed auburn hair arranged in a perfect chignon on the upper rear of his head.  He completed the look with two large, different colored, ring shaped, plastic ear inserts that distended his ear lobes and multiple nose, lip and face piercings.

The grocery store was a circus.  In the dairy section, a twentyish young man lounged on the shoulder of his taller and heavier built twentyish "partner."  The smaller man was dressed in perfectly rolled up cut offs and a pair of high top basketball shoes.  The tilt of his hips was worthy of a  high school cheerleader.

Several "butched up"couples roamed the aisles but those have become so common in midtown Tulsa that they are part of the landscape.  But, the queen of aisles had to be the gal (or at least it looked like a gal) in the sarong.  She was a big gal but the weight was well distributed and the ample curves were all in the right places.  She wore a bright, red, orange, yellow and green colored, tropical print sarong crossed in the front and tied behind her neck halter fashion and a pair of matching sandals.  From what I could tell, that was all she wore.

Even QuikTrip proved interesting.  As Sheila went in to get our afternoon coke, a fascinating couple entered behind her.  Though they were both good sized people, he was shorter than her.  He wore jeans, a sun hat and comfortable shoes, the usual uniform of a middle aged festival goer.  He had a subdued manner about him.  He followed a step or so behind her.  She stood a head taller than him and wore a pair of overalls and flat, lace up sneakers. Her face would have been perfectly at home on a Marine Corps DI and her carefully gelled silver crew cut would have passed a military inspection anywhere. I stopped myself before letting my mind wonder about the sexual dynamics of that duo.

As we drove home, I thought about how much society is trying to tell us that this is the "new normal." As I pondered it all, I came to a conclusion.  The "new normal" isn't and there is nothing there to be proud of.