Randall was talking about a song we sang on Sunday at church. I said I wanted it sung at my funeral.

I have a bad habit of thinking out loud.

I often have to back-track, to explain the brain process that got me to whatever odd-ball statement I've just made.

I've often said, Oh- I want that song at my funeral.

For the record, if my family can handle it, here are some of the things I would like done to celebrate my life:

Elvis Presley singing "Are you lonesome tonight", where he makes a joke of the words and sings, "Do the chairs in your parlour seem empty and bare; do you gaze at your bald head and wish you had hair". He spends the rest of the song laughing helplessly as his background girls ooh and ahh. Hilarious. One of my favourite moments in recording history.

The off tune lady singing, "The Laughing Song". Don't remember who she is, but I'm sure my husband has her on a hard drive somewhere.

I think a men's quartet or choir singing "Haven of Rest".

And the Rich Mullins song "If I Stand".

I'd like cake with pink frosting. Birthday cake. To celebrate that this is the first day of the rest of my life.

I'd love lots of Reader's Digest jokes.

I hope there's more laughter than tears.




I know I often make light of my death. Of my funeral.

I think it's because I'm honestly not afraid of it.

I used to be.

I went through a phase, probably like most kids, when I was around 10 I guess, where I was becoming almost compulsive about my bedtime routine- afraid that if I altered anything, from the ritual prayers to the brushing of teeth, that something bad would happen. I was terrified, every night for a long, long time, that I wouldn't wake up in the morning.

Then one night I had a dream.

I think it was more like a vision.

More than 30 years ago, and I can still remember it.

It was from God, I think, because since that vision, I've never been afraid of what comes after this life.

In my dream/vision, it was all dark. It was just totally nothing.

I was moving in it, though, and as I moved it got lighter and lighter.

The brighter it got, the less afraid I became, and a KNOWING came to me that this was death.

I knew I was moving toward God.

I knew I was moving toward his light.

I could feel his love and I was completely at rest in it.

I KNEW that I didn't have to be afraid anymore.

And I haven't been since.