This morning I got up late and tried to throw myself together to make it to church. However, by the time I got close to prepared the appropriate time had passed. Go figure. I was dressed up, though, and figured that I should go do something.
I remembered years ago, spending some time Northwest of Springfield in a quiet place. It was peaceful and reminded me of home. The place: Clear Creek Cemetery.
Now, to some a cemetery might not seem the most ‘homey’ of places. Growing up in a funeral home, though, makes it feel like an extension of my home. So, onto the cemetery I traveled.
As I drove in between the stones to park on the back side, I passed the gazebo. I loved sitting there. It was built in the place of a large 100+ year old oak tree that fell softly among the stones over a decade ago.
I parked the car and got out. The wind above me was howling through the trees, but the breeze was fairly gentle at my level. Just enough to tussle my hair around.
As I walked to the gazebo I took in the expansive rows of stones. People I had never known. Those long since past, but at this moment, each of them having an impact on my life today. Stepping into the gazebo I recalled why I loved this place. The peace. It was like returning someplace where you had been before, but once you came back it was if nothing had changed…like you had never gone in the first place.
I sat down and paid my respects.
Soon, I began to get a little chilly. I figured it was best to walk around. Be among the stones and remember the fragility of life. I saw a stone in the distance which caught my eye. It was taller than I, so I wanted to inspect it a little further. It was from decades past, when the stones were made differently; more ornate. The craftsmanship had been weathered, but you could tell the pride someone had taken in creating a long-lasting symbol of someone who had passed on from this world. I could not quite make out the name, but it really didn’t matter. They were important to someone. They had made an impact in the world at one time.
I moved on to a broken stone. They always break my heart. It was from the same era as the large memorial, but much simpler…unable to stand up to the test of time. It had broken in two, as its top laid next to its small piece still standing. I could not make out the name at all. Time had worn the indentions away. The moss had covered the stone as a blanket. My guess, based on some of the others from that era in that condition, was that it was an infant or small child. Some of these did not have names. They were just named ‘infant.’ However, the impact of that child could have been just as great at the person who had the large stone erected in their memory. Losing a child is so deep seeded in the psyche of the family. It impacts them for their lifetime. The large stone was someone who had lived a long life. Most likely made ripples or waves in the figurative ‘lake’ of life. However, the child was like a butterfly: Ever so briefly touching the world with a kiss and a slight flutter of its wings and never knowing the impact that moment had on the world. What a great thought. Even a child born for a moment can have a lasting impact on our world. If that one moment can bring about change, just imagine the difference a full lifetime can have!
I tarried on through the stones seeing last names of those familiar to me. Most likely no relation, but still bringing to my memory people who had made an impact on my life; however so slight.
Becoming a little chilly, I meandered, ever so slowly, back to the car. Before getting inside I gave the sign of the cross and gave thanks to the good Lord above for allowing me the opportunity to continue this life I live. Looking out over the hundreds and hundreds of lives represented, I whispered a thank you and a reminder that each of those resting in peace may be gone, but far from forgotten.
Peace.
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