loved to feel the
breeze in her hair and to watch the birds. Sometimes she just threw herself on
the soft, green grass and watched clouds turn into castles and angels and great
white stallions. As she skipped
around grave stones,
she whistled her favorite tune or sang a song. Other times, she liked to kneel
down and read the names and dates on gravestones, and to glide her fingers
across the engraved lettering.
She particularly
enjoyed those walks through the graveyard.
Still, her friends
asked, "Why do you walk through the cemetery after school?"
That's easy, she would
always reply. "Because it's the way home."
In an ultimate sense,
that is true, isn't it? The way home is always through the cemetery. And it
does not have to be a fearful passage at all, this way that leads home. It is a
trip we can actually look forward to
with joy.
Which is good to know,
especially when we're holding the hand of one who is about to make the voyage.
Or when we are ready to go ourselves.
Steve Goodier
No comments:
Post a Comment