Watching Gramps sleep this morning and then as Grandma cut his fingernails, I began thinking about the ideal way to die. Really, I shouldn't do this at all since my ideal romance involving a nonexistent high school sweetheart, "Jessi and Jacob" or "Amie and Tim" style is probably out of my reach and we can't control when we die anyway, so maybe these idealizing thoughts are useless... Needless to say, while it is great that Gramps has been able to see six grandkids grow up (no weddings unfortunately) and to prepare his wife financially for his death, I still think it must be a bit awful to find oneself in a nursing home, having to depend upon others for everything from feeding to bathing. I won't get into details and in fact, it must be better to have help rather than none at all, but... Maybe it's the pride/dignity factor... That being said, I can't think of any other way to die that leaves no one else in pain or in need. I'm probably thinking too much about this...
A visit to Pittsburgh was great this weekend. Recollecting HOPE Camp stories from this summer provides this hilarious story which proves that I'm really not down in the dumps about death all the time:
Laying around with the campers on open sleeping bags laid out in the grass (one of Mr. Keith's best ideas ever), I was given the opportunity to describe my faith experience to the 10-year olds. Surrounded by the woods, I compared my faith to the growth of a tree, rooted in childhood experiences and hopefully now dropping seeds of encouragement for others to grow as well. One of the boys questioned surprisedly, "You mean, Miss Heather, you've got kids?!" No, I'm not spreading my seed like that! :-)
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