“The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.”

    I'm not afraid to die. I just don't want to be there when it happens. -Woody Allen


    I've done my funeral program ahead of time to:
  1. Save my family the hassle and bother at what I would hope would be a sad time in their lives
  2. Escape the standard funeral home cookie-cutter programs that tell you nothing but statistics and ignore the flavor of the parted one's life
    a -- there should be no funeral home involved. I have instructed my family not to spend money on a funeral -- spend it on the living. If they want a headstone to tell the world when I was born, when I died, and what they thought of me, I'd rather have a brass plaque on an institution wall somewhere commemorating a donation or project in my memory, or a brass plaque in a memorial butterfly/hummingbird oasis at a campus or park. No funeral home expenses!
    b -- My body should be donated to science (No use harvesting me to allow others to live; they won't take diabetic parts -- except corneas and skin. Bummer!) who will use it to teach others to save lives and after a year will return my ashes to my family. My mother can't stand the thought of me as a cadaver. So the thought of me as a slowly sliming corpse in the ground where I don't make the world a better place is a comfort? (If I'm too damaged to be a cadaver I'd rather be a big ole ash after they harvest my corneas and skin.) I'm finished with my body! I didn't like it when I was alive! What do I want with it now, all embalmed and useless? I'm passed on. I am no more. I have ceased to be. I'm expired. I am late. I'm a stiff. Bereft of life, I rest in peace. I've rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. I am an ex-person. If I weren't donated and/or cremated, I'd be pushing up the daisies. And we all know the last thing to make this a better world is more stuck-up daisies.
  3. Assure it's done right. I don't want a eulogy extoling my love of cooked sweet potatos! They gag me. One of my favorite foods is raw sweet potatos. When someone says it's my favorite hymn, I want to make sure it is indeed my favorite hymn. I didn't have control over my grand entrance to this world. I didn't let a wedding factory spit out cookie-cutter plans for my wedding. I'm a control freak, yes, but this is my final party and I want it done right. I want my "voice" heard at my funeral, not the "voice" of a price-gouging funeral home.
  4. Prove I'm not so deluded as to think I'm never going to die.
  5. Show enough strength to recognize the obvious and inevitable and deal with them.
  6. Say goodbye to people to whom I may not have had a chance to say goodbye.

    Christine
    LaPreal
    Cummings
    Weis

    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

    ~ Mozart

    Canticus Meditatio

    ~ Albinoni
    ~ Bach

    Meditatio eloquium*

    ~ arrangement by Petrie
    I would be true, for there are those that trust me.
    I would be pure, for there are those that care.
    I would be strong, for there is much to suffer.
    I would be brave, for there is much to dare.
    I would be friend of all, the foe, the friendless.
    I would be giving, and forget the gift.
    I would be humble, for I know my weakness.
    I would look up, laugh, love and live.

    ~ translation by Seiss
    Fair are the meadows, fairer still the woodlands, Robed in the blooming garb of spring; Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer, Who makes the woeful heart to sing.

    ~ Stennett
    On Jordan's stormy banks I stand, And cast a wishful eye To Canaan's fair and happy land, Where my possessions lie. I am bound for the promised land, I am bound for the promised land; O who will come and go with me? I am bound for the promised land. When shall I reach that happy place, And be forever blest? When shall I see my Father's face, And in His kingdom rest?

    ~ anonymous
    Thou hast promised to receive us, poor and sinful though we be; Thou hast mercy to relieve us, Grace to cleanse, and power to free. Blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus, We will early turn to Thee; Blessed Jesus, blessed Jesus, We will early turn to Thee.

    Participium

    God's Love -- Rob Shepherd? Benjie Leach? Victor Brown?

    Chrissie in Review -- Donald Hines? Andrew Woolley? Benjie Leach?

    Prayer -- Benjie Leach

    Benedictio
    "My funeral now is over, and you are going home. Goodbye, goodbye, be always kind and true." Variation on a theme by Tchaikovsky

    Alleluia May Flights of Angels Sing Thee to Thy Rest (Song for Athene) Tavener

    *lyrics provided for meditation...but, hum to yourself if you'd like

    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

    Air from County Derry in G - Petrie; The Ancient Music of Ireland (1853)

    (Celtic and Hebrew music always had a powerful effect on my soul. They stir my blood and tug my heartstrings. So the melody to Air from County Derry in G always had power to bring me to tears, even more so with the original lyrics.)

    Fairest Lord Jesus, translation by Joseph A. Seiss
    (My early memories of hymns are of listening to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir...this one was my favorite...that and The Holy City. Fairest Lord Jesus had a blip on the reel to reel or vinyl disc and to the day I recently died, whenever I reviewed the words to this song I heard ‘ blip blip blip '.)

    Samuel Stennett from On Jordan's Stormy Banks (1787)
    (My very favorite hymn, except for Amazing Grace on bagpipes.)

    Savior, Like a Shepherd, anonymous 1836
    (Seemed appropriate)

    If I should die and leave you here awhile,
    Be not like others, sore undone, who keep
    Long vigils by the silent dust, and weep.
    For my sake - turn again to life and smile,
    Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do
    Something to comfort other hearts than thine.
    Complete those dear unfinished tasks of mine
    And I, perchance, may therein comfort you.

    A Price-Hughes

    (I don't imagine sore undone mourners keeping vigils, but -- Create an "Advancement Scholarship" for dependable, industrious SWAU Advancement workers to be nominated by their peers. Make a donation to any scholarship, any charity. Don't send flowers. If there are flowers here that you like, buy it from a family member and they'll donate the money in such a way as to make the world a better place.)

    Be happy, Be kind, Be loving, Be true I'll meet you in Heaven And live up there with you. Unknown.

    (I hope I'm recommended for Heavenly citizenship, and if so, I'll meet you there. Hopefully this is not good-bye. It's so long.) There shouldn't be a grave side service because my shell was supposed to have been donated so medical students may learn how to save lives. (Mom hates that idea but I didn't like my body when I was alive. What do I want with it now? I'm passed on. I am no more. I have ceased to be. I'm expired. I am late. I'm a stiff. Bereft of life, I rest in peace. I've rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. I am an ex-person. If I weren't donated and/or cremated, I'd be pushing up the daisies. And we all know the last thing to make this a better world is more stuck-up daisies.) So join me in my fantasy grave side service...a crashing thunderstorm roils toward a heather-covered Highland moor — and on a mossy boulder — a strong, proud, kilted piper plays Amazing Grace...

    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

    For I have learned
    To look on nature, not as in the hour
    Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
    The still, sad music of humanity,
    ... And I have felt
    A presence that disturbs me with the joy
    Of elevated thoughts: a sense sublime
    Of something far more deeply interfused,
    Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
    And the round ocean and the living air,
    And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
    A motion and a spirit, that impels
    All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
    And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
    A lover of the meadows and the woods,
    And mountains; and of all that we behold
    From this green earth; of all the mighty world
    Of eye and ear, both what they half create,
    And what perceive; well pleased to recognize
    In nature and the language of the sense,
    The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
    The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
    Of all my moral being.

    William Wordsworth, from Tintern Abbey

    (I loved this section of Tintern Abbey since I was in academy. From The still, sad music of humanity to recognizing In nature and the language of the sense...the guardian of my heart, this piece echoed my soul even as it stirred it. And of all the mighty world Of eye and ear, both what they half create, And what perceive sum up what fascinated me so regarding human mentality, and why I delighted in experiencing human expression, be it through ink, paint, marble, sound waves, or celluloid.)

    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

    Let us go then, you and I,
    When the evening is spread out against the sky
    Like a patient etherized upon a table;
    Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets...
    Let us go and make our visit...
    And indeed there will be time...
    There will be time, there will be time
    To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;...
    Time for you and time for me,
    And time yet for a hundred indecisions...
    And indeed there will be time
    To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
    Do I dare
    Disturb the universe?
    ...I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; ...
    And I have known the eyes already, known them all --
    The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
    And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
    When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
    Then how should I begin
    To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?...
    I grow old . . . I grow old . . .
    I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
    Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
    I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
    I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
    I do not think they will sing to me.
    I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
    Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
    When the wind blows the water white and black...

    T.S. Eliot, from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

    (This is a fraction of my favorite poem. Go home and read it. I've always liked this poem (for much the same reason I love When I Am An Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple ) and so I include it as a small slice of myself, not as a Profound Statement as in Tintern Abbey . It is profound in that we should dare. Recognizing that there won't always be Time for you and time for me, we should dare, eat a peach, be happy, and tell the Lorelei to sing to someone else. So here's my profound statement...go ye and dare!)

    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

    Chrissie's Life & Times

    January 2, 1967 — born in Glendale, California during the Rose Parade
    circa 1970 --nicknamed "Sarah Heartburn"
    April 1977 — baptized; self-diagnosed as a diabetic
    1978 — introduced to Shakespeare and Tolkien
    1980 — elected 7th-grade class president; writes science fiction story
    June 1981 — graduates 8th grade at San Fernando Valley Academy
    1981-1984 — Assistant Academy Yearbook Editor
    May 1984 — elected Academy Yearbook Editor
    1984 — Auto Mechanics class: rebuilds V8 engine, receives A; "I'd hate to see what the world would be like if Chrissie were always right" — Steve Brain
    May 1985 — graduates from Chisholm Trail Academy with honors
    1985-86 — Assist. College Yearbook Editor; adopts 42 as favorite number; adopts Sharon Leach as favorite boss
    1986 — meets Alan Weis; plays Essie in You Can't Take it With You
    1987 — elected College Yearbook Editor; plays Mrs. Soames in Our Town
    April 1988 — receives Micallef Work Scholarship
    June 12, 1988 — marries Alan Weis — Benjie and Sharon Leach officiate; plays Abigail in The Crucible
    May 1989 — graduates from Southwestern Adventist College cum laude with departmental honors
    May 1991 — camps across Germany, France, Britain, Switzerland
    July 1993 — camps across Alberta, Canada and hikes at Lake Louise
    1994 — completes first historical novel, starts second; joins Dallas-Fort Worth Writers Workshop
    February 22, 1995 — receives the best gifts of her entire life: Nikki LaPreal and Kilory LaPreal (I Samuel 1:27)
    August 1995 — Nikki & Kilory are dedicated — Benjie & Sharon officiate
    May 1996 — travels to Aachen, Paris, Giverny, Vienna, Nurnberg...
    February 1997 — completes fund-raising for Wes Stoops Memorial Scholarship
    April 1997 — parts with beloved Gramma Grace Morrison
    February 1998 — designs own funeral program as a personal good-bye to loved ones
    July 1999 — parts with Grampa Bill Morrison

    Note to family: The document ready for printing is in my storage drive under "family history"