People sometimes ask me if I get "creeped out" living across the street from a cemetery. I really don't. Husband #1 thinks it is a very convenient location for us. After all the moving we did in our early years of marriage, he sees us just simply making our last move across the street, to meet our final "resting place." He is just still that tired of moving, I guess.
The cemetery has lots of activity throughout the day.....sometimes we witness someone's burial....sometimes we are privy to someone honoring a dear one's life by visiting their tombstone. Last Sunday afternoon, I went in the living room to fluff up the pillows on the couch. (I am first born, and everything must have its place, even the stuffing in the pillows.) As I was straightening, I looked out the window and noticed a man standing alone in the cemetery. He was a tall, thin elderly man, with a hat on. I instantly felt sadness for him as I saw his gaze focusing downward, as if trying to connect with whomever he was there to "see." I could imagine him tracing the letters on the marker of his loved one with his eyes. I wanted so desperately to go out there and talk with him. I wanted to minister to his wounds of loss, and have him share with me who his beloved was, and how much he/she meant to him. I would ask him questions, so he could joyfully paint a picture of this person who was so important to him. Maybe it was his precious wife, maybe it was a son, a daughter, or a brother who had been gone from his life for some time. Whomever this person was, his love for them prompted him to take time out of his day to honor them.....remember them. I wanted to just simply walk up beside him, and put my arm around him and say nothing. I wish we lived in a world where we could be free to do that. Where the gift bearer and the gift receiver would be in an unspoken accord with one another.
I never did go across the street. I didn't even stand there watching him for too long, because I felt like I might be "eyes-dropping" on a tender moment for him. I just silently hoped that the person whom he was coming to honor knew their Saviour. And I hoped he did too.
Living across the street from a cemetery is not weird for me because it is always a constant reminder for me of the Eternal. That this isn't ALL there is. I am realizing all the more how temporal this life is.....this body is....and it makes me want to focus all the more on glorifying God with the days He has given me. How precious life is!!! But how even more wonderful Heaven will be!!
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