When I Die

When I die,
fill my church with
Bring them with you
with their snack bags,
messy hair and ill-fitted sport coats.

Fill the space
with their giggles, their cries,
their untimely comments, and
their legs that carry their tiny bodies quickly down the aisle
before you have a chance to catch them.
It is ok.

Let them fill the void that I have left.
Let the children be children and
let their light shine
through any sadness.
Let them be.
Tell them my name, maybe a story, too.
Remember me.  See me.

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