When I Die
When I die,fill my church with children. Bring them with you with their snack bags, messy hair and ill-fitted sport coats.
Fill the space with their giggles, their cries, their untimely comments, and their legs that carry their tiny bodies quickly down the aisle before you have a chance to catch them. It is ok.
Let them fill the void that I have left. Let the children be children and let their light shine through any sadness. Let them be. Tell them my name, maybe a story, too. Remember me. See me. In the children.