Shh. Don’t get weird.
I don’t know where this is coming from right now in terms of why I decided to write about it but… here it goes…
Death does not scare me. In fact, it kind of thrills me. Not in a morbid, suicidal, depressing, freaky kind of way but in like a… “I bet heaven is bad-A” kind of way.
I’ve been kind of interested in it all for as long as I can remember. When my great-grandfather passed away (I was 6), I was fascinated by the idea of him with the angels, or rather becoming an angel, which I’ve since learned isn’t really what happens but that’s okay because I’m sure it’s all still awesome – better even!
And for as long as I can remember, I’ve loved the story of Elijah. How cool would it be to be scooped up by a chariot of fire sent from heaven and to go up in what is repeatedly described as a “whirlwind”? …um, yes please! Even if I do have to go naked like Elijah. Sure, I have some insecurities, but if being naked is what it takes, I’ll strip down, jump on that fire-chariot and let it all hang out.
Haha, my slight obsession with all of this (obviously) freaks other people out. It’s become my replacement “well, that’s a bummer” response to say, “Gr. I can’t wait for my chariot” and my friends will all glare at me and say, “I swear, if you do not shut up about the chariot…” and if somehow the conversation comes up with strangers / acquaintances, they kind of look at me speechless like,
“Uhhh, is this chick serious?”
It all makes me laugh!
Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that if anything were to ever happen to me… it’s okay. Don’t let anyone be sad. I’ll be so so SO pumped.
I’m also pretty pumped to be a drunk ol’ crazy granny with my girlfriends so… you know, there’s no reason to panic either. Haha…