Maybe it's a little strange, but I like to visit cemeteries. I don't mean to be morbid. I just think it's nice that we have a tradition in our culture of erecting permanent monuments in tribute to our loved ones who have gone before us. Even when I don't know the people I am fascinated to read their headstones, wondering what their lives were like.
Last week, when we were in Arkansas, I asked my husband if he would mind taking me out to the cemetery where my dear grandparents are buried. This was the first time I had been in the area since Granddaddy passed away almost 3 years ago, and I wanted to put flowers on their grave.
It's a remote little cemetery back on a dirt road in the Ozarks, not far from where my grandparents lived and ministered for more than 40 years. It was a foggy, frosty day so no one else was around. I enjoyed the stillness as I reflected on the Godly heritage my grandparents have left me and their many other descendants.
Today is Grandmother's 93rd birthday. She's been gone 11 1/2 years, but her influence on my life is as fresh as if she were still with us. As I strolled around their old home place (now my parents' home) those few days last week, I could almost hear her asking the children to help her out with a "little job"... or interestedly inquiring after the neighbors in the area... or praying fervently for various ones in the family...
When I grow up I'd like to be just like Grandmother!