Theological Thoughts for Thursday

I have dreams of being an old man. I wake up and feel so uncomfortable. I have no earthly desire for old age.

When our family cat died, my mother was devastated. She cried for weeks at the sight of his hair. She made a little scrapbook and keeps a bag full of his hair.

It's not that I have some plan or premonition. I just think that I will die young. 15% of people my age think we will die young. By young I mean in my forties or fifties.

But I could die today with a great sense of satisfaction and joy with my life. Every time I'm taking off in an airplane I thank God for a long and productive life. I realize that I've accomplished more in 22 years than most people do in 80.

Great Grandma Gillotti lived to be 97. When she died I was very, very sad. I was 7. Mom comforted me by explaining that she wanted to go to heaven. All of her friends were in heaven. Her one wish had been that she would die with her husband (like in a car crash or together in their bed) but that he had died almost 30 years before she did.

Mom was a little sad too. I think deep down that she realized she would share her grandmother's fate. I imagine mom will live to be 100. If her eyesight could hold out and she could continue to play the organ into her oldest age I imagine she would go on indefinitely. I think mom will die at her organ. She'll be playing one moment here on earth and the next moment she'll be playing in heaven. She won't even miss a note, in true Debbie fashion.

I lost a friend to suicide this summer. It made being here, away from everyone I love, ten times harder. I'm still sad about it. I think I will be for a long time to come.

We sometimes have a terrible fear of death. We don't talk about it. It's taboo. Even when I re-read this post I find it morbid. It's not an okay subject to talk about.

I bought a decorative soap from the youth at my church. I haven't used it. I decided it was too nice and too pretty to use. While I was gone on vacation it melted and molded. It shrunk and grew a weird film over it.

This is how I feel about life and death. We can't take life so seriously that we don't enjoy it. We never know when it will be gone. Or ... when it will grow a weird film.