I went to a funeral at my church on Monday for the first time ever. It was about my 15th funeral, but I had never been to one here.
Until Monday, I had been scared to go to one at a place that had been so full of life for me. I don’t think that in high school I would have been able to go there for a funeral.
You see, when I got confirmed at church, my mom said that I had to choose one thing to go to at church, and I had to go weekly. Starting in 10th grade, I began developing my own faith instead of the one that I had been told to have. I grew to know Jesus as my personal savior and friend. But I also had some hard times during my high school years. These years consisted of doubt, confusion, hatred, sadness, happiness, love, I could go on and on. Coming to church became the best part of my week, my favorite place to be and it held the most important people in my life. I could not have handled this place including death of a loved one.
Having gone to so many funerals in my life, I had experienced them as a great passage to Heaven as well as a horrible exit from this earth. I knew that I could feel gladness at a funeral as well as anger. At the time when this church meant so much to my life and was one of the reasons that I have made it to 23, a funeral would not have meshed with this temple.
At the end of the day, I have realized that I have grown incredibly. I was able to go to accept sadness and death at a place I never wanted to have to.
It’s a God thing.