The other day my three-year-old daughter told me she missed her cemetery. (Until a few weeks ago, we lived near a beautiful, historic cemetery in Washington, D.C. We’d take walks in it most days and read tombstones as we played and ran around.) I loved hearing her say that because I always loved the cemeteries I grew up around, too. As a pastor’s kid, I wasn’t shielded from death and dying. I love Lutheran funerals so much that I’ve been known to attend ones for members of my congregation I wasn’t close to. And while I never planned out my wedding, I have written down what hymns I want sung at my funeral. And I’ve told my husband I want as simple a box as possible and no embalming. I do want a nice tombstone and I want my family to come visit me often.