A green lawn

I do most important things on the spur of the moment.  It seems that if I think too much, I tend to hold back from doing things that are important.  This morning I told my daughter I wanted to go with her to a Baptism at the lake for 2 friends of hers.  She said I had 5 minutes to get ready, so I hurried. 
I justified my decision to go by wanting to give my 4 year old the experience of witnessing a Baptism by full immersion.  This is something that is rare in the Liturgical Churches we have brought our kids up in.  In those communities, Baptism's tend to be very structured and  polished.  For 3 of our children was used antique Christening gowns with jewelry.  We all dressed up in our finest and were expected to behave perfectly.  My youngest was Baptized in a hand made gown by someone who has forgotten we exist and this has left me very, very sad.
So this morning when we arrived at a friend's back yard on the lake, my 4 year old took off running across it.  She played tag with one of her friends and started giggling.  This caused me to flash back to another event in my life that caused me to see important things from a different perspective.  The first funeral I remember going to had been a very, very solemn occasion.  I remember wanting to play with my cousins, but I was instructed that I was not allowed to have any fun 'out of respect'.  I was taught that feeling sad and miserable was what the family wanted, so I did.  A couple of years later, I would attend a funeral with a very different family.  I distinctly remember my cousins taking off across my grandmother's green lawn to play tag.  I immediately felt guilty, having been taught that play and laughter at a funeral was taboo.  So, when I approached my grandmother, she wanted me to see it differently.  She said, "Of course you can play."  I was invited to enjoy myself and celebrate the life of the one who had left us.  This was not a time to be miserable, it was a time to rejoice.  In fact, my grandmother asked me to make sure the kids played tag at her funeral.  The day of her funeral was beautiful, and we rejoiced.
I'm trying to find that place in my life where I leave behind these instructions to be sad a miserable.  I'm not sure how to do this, as this seems to betray something.  I'm not sure what, and I'm not sure why I write this for the world to read.  I've found myself in a conversation with the church again, and this leaves me feeling vulnerable or woundable.  I don't like this feeling, and I am sure I can think my way out of it.  I hope that I'll find the courage to keep trusting and walking and doing things on the spur of the moment.  Watching and remembering running across a green lawn seems like a pretty good step.  Pray for me that I continue.