Kim Scott probably knows 500 preachers and each of them – all of them! – would have jumped at the chance to do his funeral. That I was the one to officiate that memorial service yesterday in Amarillo is one of the great honors of my life.
In some ways, it was a tough spot. I felt like I needed to tell a bunch of jokes. I felt like Kim would be disappointed if everybody wasn’t laughing the whole time. And you might say, “But it’s a funeral.” And I would say, “But it’s Kim!” The guy died in the church building during a Bible class on Wednesday night! He would want somebody to point out the humor in that!
So we did. We covered the fact that Kim is right now probably bragging about dying in church on a Wednesday night and how that moves him to the front of the line to get into heaven. We covered the loud neckties and the outrageous family Christmas cards. We talked about Farm & Ranch Shows and Water Board meetings and LCU. We highlighted his sense of humor and his great joy. And I told some jokes. Straight out of Kim’s book.
Did you hear about the big truck that overturned on I-40? It was carrying peanut butter. Jars of peanut butter spilled out everywhere. But it went so well with the traffic jam.
What sound does a limping turkey make?
Wobble, wobble, wobble.
What do you call a cow who just had a baby?
Decaffeinated.
I hear that membership in the Flat Earth Society is falling off.
People who identify as cake are really conscientious; they’re always running around saying, “You want a piece of me?”
I would love to write out all six pages of my eulogy to Kim Scott in this space. Instead, here’s a link to a video of the service. If you want to hear 650 people gut-laughing at a funeral, you might check this out.
On top of presiding over Kim’s funeral, it was a rich blessing to be back in Amarillo. It was great to see so many of the people we ministered with during our ten years there. I got to town early enough to stop by The PARC and hug Shelley’s neck and get caught up with Valerie and see the plans for their new building. I got gas at “my” Toot N Totem and visited with my longtime early morning friends Stacy and Gary and just missed Daniel, who I learned is Stacy’s new assistant manager. I found out the hard way that Burger Bar on Polk Street is now permanently closed so we had to move our lunch with Greg, Steve Nordyke, and the Coopers to the original Blue Sky on Western. (That Blue Sky has crispy fries, which we don’t have at the Blue Sky in Midland!) And I got to spend a couple of hours in that sacred Central church building.
Mixed emotions, man, I’m telling you. Tougher than I thought it would be. And much more of a deep-rooted joy than I anticipated. I thank God for that great church and the years we spent there with those wonderful disciples of Jesus.
And I praise the Lord for Kim Scott. Kim reflects our God’s glory in his kindness and generosity, his patience and grace, his love and great joy. I am a better man, a better follower of Jesus, because of my connection with Kim. I know God better, I see God better, because of Kim. I’m a little ticked off at him right now because he left without saying goodbye – that’s very unlike Kim. But I’m looking forward to seeing him soon. Sooner than I think. And I’ll see if he’ll let me cut in with him in line.
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I made it home last night just in time to change clothes, grab C-A and Whitney, and make it out to the ballpark for the Midland RockHounds home opener. It was a beautiful night, the crowd was energetic, the nachos had a little extra cheese, and the RockHounds gave us a win over the Tulsa Drillers. They were down 3-0 in the first inning before they even got up to bat. But Midland exploded for six runs in the bottom of the seventh to win it 10-8 and maintain their first place position in the Texas League South.
Peace,
Allan
Stan Cox, our favorite usher who runs a very tight Section 109, told me he didn’t know what was more disappointing: that we were leaving Central or how quickly my baseball allegiance had changed. He agreed that my quick switch shows a real lack of personal integrity and character. When Stan came around with the garbage bag in between innings, he asked me to take off my RockHounds shirt and kindly place it in the trash.
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