The sun crept out between the clouds so we dashed for the light! Throwing on hoodies, we jumped in the truck and took off for nowhere. Driving country roads. Winding through the hills, we spotted an old cementary and decided to stop awhile.
We wandered among the ancient markers, reading the names and counting years. So many were broken or tumbled to the ground, worn over seasons and time. But how I love old cemeteries with tall standing stones. This is the kind of place I wish to rest when my days are done. The modern ones with flat brass plates for mowing convenience lack reverence and expressions of love. It’s really not a morbid curiousity that brings me to these places. It’s much more an honoring of life. Maybe it’s because so many of my loved ones have gone before me. Too, I find an understanding ground. It shares my sorrow, love, longing and hope that we’ll be together again.
I knelt upon the ground, rubbing away the mossy crust, tracing the letters with my fingers, trying to decipher the messages left there….
In labor and in love, allied In death, here sleep side by side. Resting in peace, the aged twain Til Christ shall raise them up again
But a little while and I shall see my brother and our Savior. (His brother lain beside, passed just the year before.)
On the far side, I spied an oddity. A metal pot in a tripod leaning by a tall marker. The grandsons of the man had brought it there. This was the pot he cooked in as an army cook in the Civil War!!!
More to come…..