that's what jesus would do

I am reeling from the number of people who have contacted members of our family to intrude upon the private family services. It was my mother's wish. For reasons personal to her, my mother wanted her funeral services attended exclusively by family members. As outgoing as she was, she didn't have many friends that came to her home or accompanied her to social events. In the last few years of her life, she attended a local church and "became a member." "Becoming a member" required attending classes with considerable fees for required texts penned by neo-fundamentalist Christian authors. I had always been under the impression that becoming a member of the Christian faith required accepting Jesus of Nazareth to be the son of God and one's own personal saviour(I seem to recall a story about Jesus cleansing the moneychangers out of the temple...?). Despite her limited resources, she would forego having disposable income from her tiny disability check to purchase the books and attend the classes. Approximately a year and a half ago, she confided to me that she didn't feel particularly close to the women of the church. She felt "snubbed" by them. I listened to her and sympathized. I didn't quite understand, given these women frequently called my mother to bring food, various supplies, monetary donations, and her own time and effort whenever they took on a project. Also, exclusion seems in marked contrast to the spirit of Christianity, which I thought was foremost a compassionate belief system. It was around this time my mother started to use credit cards to purchase shoes and clothing from the more expensive stores in our area. She had previously told me that she had come to a point in her life wherein she no longer coveted material things. I was concerned about her abrupt reversal and about the reckless spending. At this time she also started to buy expensive home goods; appliances, decor, bedding, etc. She also started driving 45 minutes to a posh department store to have her hair styled. Things began to make sense to me when I went to make arrangements for my mother's funeral. The Knifeler Funeral Home has been a staple of Palookaville County for three generations. There, while Mr. Knifeler made calls in the other room, Mrs. Knifeler came in and offered her condolences. She was wearing a pair of Gucci sandals with a bracelet-sleeved pastel boucle suit. Her glasses were designer. Her haircut was definitely expensive. She had movie star too-white veneered teeth and a deep tan. She told us she knew my mother from the Bible classes at the Church. I recalled a story mom told me. During a ladies group meeting, they asked for volunteers for an event. As a job was called out, different people would raise their hands and the person in charge would choose and write down the names next to the corresponding job. Despite raising her hand for every job, my mother's name was not chosen. The last available job of greeter was announced. My mother raised her hand and the person in charge looked pointedly over my mother and said, "Well, maybe we could ask the general church population for volunteers for greeters." and never acknowledged my mother or wrote down her name. My mother teared up as she told me this story. Soon after, my mother stopped attending the church altogether when her aunt by marriage, a Baptist icon of sorts in the Palookaville community known for her selfless contributions to the church, started to avoid her. All of this happened a short while after my ne'er-do-well brother was arrested for cocaine possession and my wayward teenage niece gave birth to an illegitimate interacial baby. My mother sought the counsel of the head pastor for solace during this time. Soon, the details of these events had spread to the entire church population.
Imagine my surprise when this same aunt called to inquire about bringing a group of non-family members from the church to my mother's services. I was flabbergasted by the request,given the obituary stated the services were private. I told her I was grateful for the support and touched by the request, but it was my mother's wish that her services be private and I didn't feel it was appropriate. I hoped she and the ladies understood it was important to me to make sure her wishes were carried out. Aunt Jesus assured me she understood and would pass it along to the ladies. Less than an hour later I get a call from my beleagured stepfather; a not especially bright accidental Christian, meaning he subscribes to Christianity when he can manipulate scripture to justify a point in an argument (example; he once justified procuring prostitutes by quoting a scripture).
"I wanted to tell you I made a retraction in the Palookaville Times. I have decided to open the service."

"Did Aunt Jesus and her disciples call you and work some fire and brimstone voodoo on you?"

"Nah," he lied. "I've gotten a lot of calls and your brother has already invited people, so I thought it would be better to open it up."

By people, my stepfather actually meant the scum of the earth. Prior to the wedding of my mother and stepfather, my mother was an alcoholic. In order to be where the beer was, she associated with the bar flys of Palookaville. When my mother got sober, none of these people ever associated with her again and if they did it was in an attempt to get her to drink. None of these so called friends attended the wedding nor sent congratulations. Now, surprisingly, they crawled from the woodwork to crash my mother's services via invitation of my opportunistic psychotic drunken brother who was probably drinking on their tab.

My mother had three requests for her funeral services.
One; no viewing. She felt it was in bad taste to have people looking at a dead corpse. She preferred a closed casket with a nice photo set atop it.

My stepfather insisted she be viewed "for closure."

Two; no cremation. She was opposed to cremation despite the practicality.

My stepfather insisted upon cremation for financial reasons.

Three; a private service for family only.

Now that was shot to hell. Not one of her wishes will be fulfilled. I am profoundly disturbed.

Trust no one. Get it in writing. Be wary of the Jesus people. Amen.