Sometimes, the deepest lessons from a burial come not from the sermon—but from a silent glance, a soft song, or even the sting of being snubbed.
I had just begun a five-day break from work. On the very first day, I joined four church friends for a burial trip upcountry. We travelled in one of the group’s personal vehicles — five of us, light conversation, laughter, and that easy road-trip rhythm that makes you forget your responsibilities for a while.
We joked about snacks, playlists, and who would “represent us well” when it came to serving food later. The mood was great — no heaviness yet, just the warmth of familiar company and gospel music humming softly in the background.
Arriving Early: The Quiet Observer
We arrived early, before most guests. The place was buzzing with people reconnecting — long-lost cousins, former classmates, and neighbors exchanging small talk.
The introvert in me quietly drifted away, found an empty seat under one of the tents, and scrolled my phone as I waited. Sometimes silence is comfort, especially when surrounded by noise that doesn’t require your participation.
Soon, the atmosphere softened. A young man began to sing soulful gospel tunes, accompanied by gentle piano chords. His voice carried through the air — calm, pure, and deeply moving.
That’s when I took a proper look around. We were in a large school compound, with tents arranged in a U-shape. Behind us stood a storied classroom block, and faint sounds of schoolchildren drifted through the windows. Life, as always, moving on.
The Ceremony and the Sermon I Forgot
The program began: opening prayers, family tributes, and stories about the deceased — a 46-year-old man described as kind, hardworking, and devoted.
Then came the sermon. I wish I remembered what the preacher said, but I honestly don’t. Maybe my mind wandered, maybe grief numbed me, or maybe I was just tired from the journey.
Yet even without recalling the words, I remember the feeling — that quiet reminder that our days are limited, and our impact on others is what truly remains.
For more reflections like this, you can read my earlier post “The Thankless Job of a Hero: The Cost of Leadership”, where I explored how even unnoticed acts can shape lives.
The Moment I Was Snubbed
Then came the offering time. My friends were seated on my right, and to my left was a lady holding a copy of the eulogy booklet that included the hymn lyrics.
The songs were in my vernacular language — beautiful, nostalgic, filled with childhood memories of church choirs and shared faith. I leaned over politely and asked if I could borrow her booklet so I could sing along.
She looked at me briefly… then looked away. No response. No explanation. Just silence.
For a few seconds, I froze. It wasn’t anger I felt — more of surprise. Maybe even embarrassment. I smiled weakly and sat back, pretending it didn’t matter, but inside, something ached.
Reflecting on the Snub
As the service went on, I kept thinking about it. Maybe she was grieving. Maybe she was guarding her copy. Or maybe she just didn’t feel like sharing.
We never really know what people are carrying. Still, the moment stuck with me — not because it was cruel, but because it was a quiet lesson.
How often do we overlook small opportunities to be kind? A smile. A shared booklet. A simple acknowledgment. They cost nothing, yet they can warm even the coldest moments.
Later, during the drive back, I hummed one of the hymns softly to myself and realized — the lesson wasn’t about being snubbed. It was about keeping a soft heart even when the world forgets gentleness.
If you’ve ever been in a similar situation, you might relate to “Handling Unstable Customers in Customer Care Kenya”, where I wrote about staying calm and kind in challenging moments.
Lessons from a Burial: Small Kindnesses that Matter
Every experience — even a burial — carries a hidden message. For me, this one whispered three truths that have stayed with me:
- People are layered.
We see reactions, not reasons. Everyone is fighting invisible battles. - Silence teaches.
The moments we’re ignored or overlooked often sharpen our empathy. - Kindness never expires.
You don’t lose anything by being kind — even when others aren’t.
It reminded me of something I once wrote in Blending Technology and Human Care:
“The heart of every interaction — digital or human — is empathy.”
And it’s true. Whether in customer service, at home, or in a rural funeral gathering, our behavior toward others is what defines us most.
Books That Shape Emotional Awareness
After returning home, I journaled about the experience. That’s when I realized I had unconsciously been collecting books that teach kindness and awareness — small daily practices that keep the heart open.
If you’ve ever struggled to stay kind when the world feels indifferent, these reads might speak to you:
- 📖 The Power of Kindness: The Unexpected Benefits of Leading a Compassionate Life — a powerful reminder that empathy is strength, not weakness.
- 📖 The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott Peck — timeless wisdom on love, discipline, and spiritual growth.
- 📖 Atomic Habits by James Clear — practical steps for small, consistent changes that transform who we become.
Each of these books has taught me that emotional maturity isn’t built in grand gestures — it’s nurtured in the small, daily choices to stay kind, calm, and aware.
Grace in the Mundane
When I think about those five days off, that trip stands out — not for the food, or the speeches, but for that one quiet moment that changed how I see people.
Life is full of individuals who will ignore you, misunderstand you, or simply overlook your presence. But when you choose gentleness over bitterness, you win a quiet victory every single time.
Next time you’re tempted to withhold a small act of kindness — whether it’s sharing a seat, offering a smile, or lending a hymnbook — remember: someone might be silently needing that grace.
Because the greatest lessons from a burial often come long after the grave is covered — in how we choose to live, love, and extend compassion while we still can.
Related Reads:
- The Thankless Job of a Hero: The Cost of Leadership
- Customer Service in Microfinance
- Blending Technology and Human Care
- Serving Behind the Scenes in Church
Outbound Resource:
Learn more about empathy and human connection from the Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley.
💬 Join the Reflection
What small moment has ever taught you a big lesson?
Share your story in the comments below or tag me on Facebook — I’d love to hear your reflection.
✨ Explore my recommended reads and tools on Amazon — they’ve shaped many of the stories you read here.
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