Play "Cotton Eye Joe" At My Funeral

To Be Honest Don't Give Me Sadness When I'm Gone

I watched a few episodes in the Duck Dynasty heyday, but that was about it. My son knows my thoughts on hair and beards, so the Robertson men were too hairy for my short-cut, trimmed beard taste. Last week, I read that patriarch Phil Robertson passed. He made his wishes clear, that no one mourn, but celebrate.

I believe his thoughts on having a lighter atmosphere at his funeral were to celebrate his faith and belief that he was with Jesus in heaven for eternity. A perfect destination filled with the presence of God. Where mansions abound and worship is everywhere.

Phil Robertson, like anyone, lived on earth with flaws, weaknesses, and choices that missed the mark. Before his personal relationship with God, he shared that he was a man with dark secrets that included drunkenness, infidelity, and trouble with the law. He even had a movie, The Blind, chronicling the journey from spiritually lost to found.

That’s why I get why he instructed his family to dance, sing, and not mourn or cry after he was gone.

Me? I love music. When I hear songs from certain moments in my past, a truckload of memories accompanies those few minutes. Some are fun. Many are sad. A lot are difficult. And then there are songs that are goofy.

That’s what I want at my funeral. I might not have a fowl legacy attached to my name, but my life is one big comeback story. Surrender is not just my author brand, it’s my life. I’m not perfect, but I’m obedient. It’s weird, I know. But when God asked me to do this thing, or say that thing, I’ve done it. Again, not perfectly, but I surrendered and obeyed.

And in death, celebrate Him because on my own, I’m one volcanic hot mess. Celebrate my moments with music. Don’t play some religious hymns from an organist. I am a percussion girl. Don’t think I’m in heaven on a cloud playing a harp. With the research I’ve done, there will be heavenly jobs, but it won’t be work. Our skills on earth will be used. I’m convinced I’ll be a librarian and hostess, introducing speakers like Paul, formerly known as k iller of Christians Saul. There will be mocha with all the toppings. How will it taste? Heavenly.

I couldn’t resist.

“Cotton Eye Joe” is a standout on my playlist. I hear it and can transport to the 90’s where line dancing was everything, and I was uncoordinated and intimidated. But it was so fun to watch everyone else. Fast forward a few decades, and my daughter and I spend quality time binge-watching shows. A favorite is New Girl. Anytime “Cotton Eye Joe” plays on Spotify, we picture Nick Miller. That song unlocks core memories. That song is more than music. It’s a celebration. That’s the kind of music I want at my funeral.

Requesting bangers at my funeral when I profess Christian faith probably smacks in the face of religious tradition like sad music and long faces. I hope so, and I think that’s the point Phil Robertson had in mind. Religion is not what Robertson lived for, or what Jesus died for. And that’s my answer too. I will never be that one raising my hand in a meeting announcing, “but we always did it that way” or “this is the only Bible version to read” because that screams religion. I’m about relationship with my Heavenly Father. His Son, who I could see dancing to a banjo, a percussion solo, or a guitar riff, and My Teacher and Encourager, the Holy Spirit. Relationship with family and friends.

In the memorials for Phil Robertson, that’s the fact that comes up. He left behind a faith and a relationship with family that runs deep and outlasts him.

And that’s worth singing about.

***

Substack is my safe space where I write what I want. I’m also a small-town romance author who writes Christian surrender themes and chocolate mentions into my books. I love to encourage other authors as well. My OG blog features authors and their new releases.

This week is Diana Leagh Matthews with Forever Changed. Check it out!