Lately, I seem to be sitting in the reserved seats at funerals. So, when it comes time for you to sit in my reserved seats, just a heads up.
I am going to be cremated and I am honestly not sure where I will land. Hopefully, under a bed of tulips somewhere or tossed in the air. It's okay. It's not me, you already have the best piece of me in your heart. The rest is just wrapping paper.
There will be food. Come hungry.
There will be Communion. Come hungry.
The play list looks something like this: "Children Go Where I Send Thee", "Break Forth", "Love is Simple", "God of the Sparrow", "Nulla In Mundo Pax Sincera"
There will be an Order of Worship. I can't help it.
There will be a couple of readings: The reading by Henry Scott Holland from Mom's funeral plus a couple other random readings. (Don't want to spoil the entire surprise.)
There will be bubbles. Lots of bubbles and chalk.
There will be Joy.
I know this seems like a random post, but this has been on my mind since the Little Grandma's funeral. How can the sum of someone's life be accurately expressed by a person that never knew her.
