I find peace in cemetery's. It's a bit odd I know. Maybe it's from the many visits to my baby sisters grave. It is after all my culture, as sweet baby girl died at only three months old. I only know life with death. Whatever the reason in these places I find rest, and clarity; A sharp contrast of the meaning of life and worthlessness. I've found that often times the stones of remembrance have been set in the most majestic spots screaming the glory of our Maker while also giving the seeker a quiet place to hear.
This latest visit down home, a third in the matter of days, I stopped at the Chase cemetery. It was a quaint piece of land. The entrance closed with a chain hanging from the stone that marked the boundaries. The boundaries the size of my living room. The stones from the 1800's. A life only remembered by the few words engraved on a timeless stone.
|The last line: I rest in hope|
We thought on Your lovingkindness, O God,
~ Psalm 48:9a
2283. A country Cemetery.
2284. Lasting words of hope.
2285. A written challenge to live my life the same way.