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When I was a child, I would always let go of my balloons when I was outside. I was convinced I was sending them up to Heaven to be with my grandparents.
I remember probably the first time someone close in the family died, when I was about seven, I was confused about how they're laid out. I have a drawing I did of someone who died being on the cross like Jesus. I guess that's how I thought everyone who died was displayed. I was a weird (and religious) child.
For some reason I thought for a brief time that only people who never got stung by a bee in their life would go to Heaven
When I was little, I believed that when you died, you got to be a priest. The shock I got when I was an altar-server and found out the priests all lived!
One time when I was little, I accidentally let go of a balloon. I was crying and imagined the balloon up in balloon heaven crying for me too.
When i was on First Grade, one classmate died and my parents explain me that she goes to Heaven, so i firmly believe she could fallen down above our heads in any minute. Even i wrote a letter to ask her to be carefull on hers flyiings!!!!!
When I was little I knew that heaven was the place you went to when you died. So as we were passing a cemetery I said to my mom "look mom, it's heaven."
When I was little, I used to believe that whatever someone believed is what would happen to them after they died. Ex: If they believed in heaven and were a good person, then they'd go to heaven. If they believed in reincarnation, they would be reincarnated. If they didn't believe in any afterlife, than nothing would happen.
Then, I grew up and people tried to convince me that one belief was correct above all others and that everyone who didn't believe like me would go to hell.
I like my childhood belief better :D
i used to believe that when humans died they would be able to change into any animal they want..you know just die and live on as something else. i didn't know there was a such thing as 'god' until my friend took me to church...i think my child-hood belief is ok no one told me that it was natural.
When I was around age 7 I thought that heaven was this little shack that had only a kitchen in it and an old lady making cookies for a group of kids. and out side the shack it had thorn bushes growing around the out side and that the ground was made of clouds.
When I was really young. Before I understood what religions were about. I thought it'd be very frustrating that after you die again. You actually become reborn. But I didn't like that concept because. you'd have to relearn everything that you'd learn from your previous life.
Like refining your motor skills, walking, and I still used to trip when I walked. Writing, learning, it just seemed so boring. Why go back through all of that again when you learned it the first time.
I still don't know what to think.
when i was like 7 i thought that heaven was a really big hotel where everyone had their own room, and depending on how good a person was during their life, determined how nice of a room they got. i was always afraid that god would run out of rooms and i wouldn't get one
When I was little I thought that heaven was made of clouds and that there were little viewing rooms with windows on the floor so your deceased family member could see what you were up to.
When I was younger, I asked my mom what heaven was like. She told me it was basically like a big ballroom, where you spent forever dancing and singing. I never liked to dance, or sing, so I thought it sounded really boring.
Growing up a catholic, when I was 7 years old, it was time for my First Communion.
On this occasion all the kids of my age went to a special mass and they get to drink some diluted sacramental wine for the fist time.
We kids were standing in front of the altar, I was the farthest on the right. The priest gave the goblet to the kid at the left, everone drank a bit and passed it on. When it was my turn it was already empty.
As I didn't get to drink, I was afraid this would render the whole initiation invalid, and that with this formal error in my First Communion, I might be turned down at heaven's gate.
I used to think that if I told even one little whhite lie, I would go straight to hell.
I used to believe that all dead people were squashed into a heart. [3
I used to believe that they would bang their heads on the dip in the roof and had hardly any room.
This is because my mother told me all dead people live on in our hearts.
Aged 5, my little sister asked if you go to French heaven if you die in France. I told her I wasn't sure. She replied "Well I don't think we should die on holiday just in case. I can't speak very good French".
This is actually one of my earlier memories so it's a little hazy but parts of it are still quite vivid.
I remember being in Sunday School and this woman whose child care certificate must have been made of construction paper and glitter, was speaking to the congregation of youngsters about the difference between Heaven and Hell.
I have from as far back as I can remember struggled with the concept of living forever.(Either way I look at it living for an eternity in either case is Hell in itself.)
This woman had me believing that when you die and go to heaven (because we were all good little girls and boys.) you eternally sit on a fence and listen to angels sing.
Right then and there I decided that Christianity wasn't for me, her story sent me into my earliest memory of an anxiety attack and I bolted for the exit as soon as I saw an opportunity.
This is where things get hazy, I remember construction workers and a bunch of adults I didn't recognize. I was found and my parents promptly took me home.
I must have been at least 2, but it's hard to know for sure.
When I was little, I heard people mention asking God a question after they died and decided I had alot of questions, and worried incessantly about forgetting them when I woke up. Thus I determined I wanted to be buried with a piece of paper with my questions written on it. Then I just worried about forgetting about the paper, but figured with all eternity to go through, I'd eventually stick my hand in my pocket and wonder what it was.