my legs covered in mosquito bites scratched until they bled, tangles in my red hair (I’ve always liked my hair red best), singing a song I wrote when I was a child….
Or not. I mean, whatever, it’s just a writing prompt – how do you want other people to remember you when you are dead? Feel free to post your desire.
The last time I heard that question answered was years ago at a Campus Crusade Conference. The woman who asked was as leader. She was probably in her late twenties or early thirties. She said what she really wanted was for people to say that she really loved God.
At a recent funeral the people that got up to speak remembered the deceased as a man that loved the Denver Broncos and could put away some beer. More than two people got up to share this.
It did spur me on to remember the Campus Crusader and to reconsider what people would think of me when I died, although by then, I won’t care a lick. I’ll be up in heaven, wearing jewels and feasting and drinking, oh boy do I have a lot of drinking to catch up on.
What do I want?
I want you to know that I loved you. This goes for my husband, my daughter, my in-laws, the people in my small group and the women I’ve talked to until late at night, fighting off their mental illness or marital problems. I want every last person who speaks to say that, and to believe that. If I don’t love them, I haven’t done my job.
I am not say that I love all of you, dear readers. I don’t expect you to appear and say so, but I hope that my love for God pours over until you are able to drink some of it. And for those of you I’ve met, the love is so great that you can get one of those duck inter-tubes and splash around in it.