It’s a weird thing to attend a funeral of a young person. Young is relative, of course. In this instance, young is not much older than I am. Young is the parent of not-yet-teenagers. Young is that weird place between being an adult and having a family of one’s own, but still very much being daughter and sister first or at least in equal force to wife and mom. It might have been a sad time in that space, and maybe it should have been under the circumstances. But what I heard and felt seemed full of certainty and faith. Continue reading →