DEDICATION OF THE FINAL RESTING PLACE OF
JAKAYLA UMMERTESKEE
Our Father in Heaven, as we gather in this place we dedicate and consecrate this grave as the final resting place for the mortal remains of Jakayla Ummerteskee. Father, we ask that this be a hallowed place to which the kindred of infant Ummerteskee may come, and that at the time of the resurrection the body may again come forth reunited with the Spirit.
I do this by the authority of the Holy Melchizedek Priesthood, which I hold, in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
April 22, 2006
The phone rang on Thursday, April 20, 2006. It was Bishop Tracy, wondering if I could do him a favor. Could I possibly go down to Butler (25 miles south) on Saturday to attend a funeral and dedicate a grave? It seemed an infant only a few days old had died. Many of the family members were Mormon, but they did not attend church and no one seemed to know them. I really hate to loose my Saturdays, the only day I have available for my own pursuits, but I was prompted so I said sure. There was not going to be a church service, only a grave side service at a tiny rural cemetery located some miles west of town, at noon.
I had recently dedicated the grave of my father-in-law and was familiar with the process. My father-in-law was cremated, and I had typed up the dedication, which I left with his ashes in the crypt. On that occasion, quite a number of relatives were present. Gene was a Baptist, and his Baptist minister gave the graveside service. The Spirit was not in attendance. My mother-in-law, also a Baptist, had, to my surprise, asked me, as one who holds the Melchizedek Priesthood in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to dedicate Gene’s grave. This was the first time for me, and I had carefully prepared.
The Mormon contingent all knew I was going to dedicate the grave, and stayed after the Baptists were done. We had to wait a while for Gene’s brother to leave since he was very curious about what the strange Mormons were doing. Eventually, I was able to get down to business. On starting the prayer, the Spirit decided to come after all, and tears literally flowed down my face – but I had sunglasses on so it was ok. At least I was able to speak clearly. Everyone was very satisfied when I finished. Clearly, I had done a holy thing; all could feel it.
That was for my father-in-law, a man I was very fond of, done in the midst of close family. This request was for someone I did not know, not the baby nor any of the family. The dedication is short, and, in spite of the rather overwhelming experience with Gene, I figured this would be OK. Cheryl could not go with me, so I drove alone to the cemetery, getting there a half hour early. No one was there yet.
Gradually, people filtered in. Some were dressed in church clothes, some looked like they had just put down their work on the farm and came straight over. The baby’s mother introduced herself. No father was evident. Grandparents were there, however, and I assume most of the other people were relatives. I kept an eye out for a preacher or minister that I could meet with briefly to go over procedure. No preacher showed up. After 50 or so people were standing or sitting on the grass on the slope above the grave-site, watching me expectantly as I stood by the coffin, it dawned on me that I would have to give a funeral service…completely extemporaneously.
This was going to be very difficult. I don’t like funerals. I hardly ever go to them. I only knew the baby’s name. I did not know the circumstances of her life or death. I did not even know exactly how old she was. I did not know anything about the father, even if there was one involved. The mother was crying tragically. Her mother was crying. Her grandmother was crying. I prayed for help, and gave a talk.
I thought a short discussion about the Plan of Salvation would be appropriate, but, of course, it doesn’t apply well to the newborn. I also wasn’t sure if my audience would get it at all without a couple of hours of buildup. Well, when in doubt, we are instructed to open our mouths and the Lord will speak through us. So I did, and immediately tears started streaming down my face, in front of 50 complete strangers, most not even church members. Pretty soon I had all the audience crying, too.
After the requisite 18 minutes, I finished up in the Name of Jesus Christ. (All my church talks are timed for 18 minutes.) The audience was just overwhelmed and, of course, delighted. Baby Jakayla was safe and happy in the bosom of Heavenly Father. She wasn’t going to hang around haunting anyone, and they could get back to work.
I advised the mother to bury my dedication prayer with the baby. This isn’t Church doctrine, but I think it is a good idea to provide solace for the living.
I am an engineer, and I dislike surprises of any kind. My world is supposed to be orderly. I try to be prepared for any foreseeable difficulties that life might throw my way in a vain attempt to keep it orderly, but you just can’t think of everything. However, now I am confident I can conduct a funeral service by winging it with the Spirit.
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