Page 122 - moondani kyema
P. 122
ndani kyema, My Story - Ray Moore 122
The tasks that I loved doing in the ministry were funerals and weddings. This was
because I became involved in people's lives when it really mattered.
My first funeral was soon after I had become the pastor of the Rainbow Baptist
Church. There was a car crash in which a young man was killed near
Warracknabeal. The Baptist pastor at Warracknabeal was away and so was the
other experienced pastor at Hopetoun. I was the only Baptist pastor available. I
knew nothing about conducting a funeral, so I got out my brand new book of services
and tried to familiarize myself with the service. However, the book did not tell me
about people skills. I had very little experience of funerals and was unaware of the
amount of contact I should have had with the grieving family, such as visiting them
and working out the details of the service and finding out about the person who had
died. So the first time that I met the family was at the funeral. This meant that my
connection with them and my help were minimal. I am still embarrassed to think of
it.
I certainly improved very quickly and in the process got to know the undertakers very
well. In general they seem to have an overdeveloped sense of humour, although I
might be using the word 'overdeveloped' because you do not expect humour from
people who are responsible for such a somber undertaking.
When we went to our second church at Abbotsford which was in the city of
Collingwood, sitting in the front of the hearse with the undertaker and his driver, we
would often be shown respect from the side of the road in the form of the hat placed
over the heart or simply removed. I have not seen this in recent years. What was
difficult was that the undertaker was often telling me some hilarious story of some of
his experiences, and in deference to those along the way that were showing their
respect for the dead, I simply could not be seen to be laughing.
He told me that he was contacted once to collect a body from Swan Hill. When he
duly arrived he was directed to the pub where, he was told, the body was being held.
On getting to the pub he found a full photo session in progress with the deceased
mate propped up in the middle of them, while they took the opportunity of some final
pictures before he was taken away.
I once said a prayer beside a grave into which we had just placed the body of a man
who had no relatives or friends. The undertaker and I were the only people present.
There was no church or chapel service and, after a short conversation between us as
we pondered on the sadness of such an event, I said a prayer for him and those like
him, alone in the world. Another time when there were only a couple of us present
was when I was asked to bury a still born baby and the parents could not face the
idea of being there. Any funeral where a small child has died and this tiny coffin is
lowered into the grave, is heart wrenching.
There was the time that the grave was not wide enough for the coffin and, before we
could go on with the graveside service, the gravedigger had to come and widen it.
Our Auntie Nell had come to Traralgon to live to be close to us and to her sister,
Bev's Mum. When she died however, we had the service in the Traralgon Baptist
The tasks that I loved doing in the ministry were funerals and weddings. This was
because I became involved in people's lives when it really mattered.
My first funeral was soon after I had become the pastor of the Rainbow Baptist
Church. There was a car crash in which a young man was killed near
Warracknabeal. The Baptist pastor at Warracknabeal was away and so was the
other experienced pastor at Hopetoun. I was the only Baptist pastor available. I
knew nothing about conducting a funeral, so I got out my brand new book of services
and tried to familiarize myself with the service. However, the book did not tell me
about people skills. I had very little experience of funerals and was unaware of the
amount of contact I should have had with the grieving family, such as visiting them
and working out the details of the service and finding out about the person who had
died. So the first time that I met the family was at the funeral. This meant that my
connection with them and my help were minimal. I am still embarrassed to think of
it.
I certainly improved very quickly and in the process got to know the undertakers very
well. In general they seem to have an overdeveloped sense of humour, although I
might be using the word 'overdeveloped' because you do not expect humour from
people who are responsible for such a somber undertaking.
When we went to our second church at Abbotsford which was in the city of
Collingwood, sitting in the front of the hearse with the undertaker and his driver, we
would often be shown respect from the side of the road in the form of the hat placed
over the heart or simply removed. I have not seen this in recent years. What was
difficult was that the undertaker was often telling me some hilarious story of some of
his experiences, and in deference to those along the way that were showing their
respect for the dead, I simply could not be seen to be laughing.
He told me that he was contacted once to collect a body from Swan Hill. When he
duly arrived he was directed to the pub where, he was told, the body was being held.
On getting to the pub he found a full photo session in progress with the deceased
mate propped up in the middle of them, while they took the opportunity of some final
pictures before he was taken away.
I once said a prayer beside a grave into which we had just placed the body of a man
who had no relatives or friends. The undertaker and I were the only people present.
There was no church or chapel service and, after a short conversation between us as
we pondered on the sadness of such an event, I said a prayer for him and those like
him, alone in the world. Another time when there were only a couple of us present
was when I was asked to bury a still born baby and the parents could not face the
idea of being there. Any funeral where a small child has died and this tiny coffin is
lowered into the grave, is heart wrenching.
There was the time that the grave was not wide enough for the coffin and, before we
could go on with the graveside service, the gravedigger had to come and widen it.
Our Auntie Nell had come to Traralgon to live to be close to us and to her sister,
Bev's Mum. When she died however, we had the service in the Traralgon Baptist
