Mention "Memorial Day" and some folks think about a long weekend, BBQs, golf, the first unofficial day of summer. Me--I think about foil covered coffee cans with big pink peonies. I think about trips with my parents to the cemetery to place flowers on the graves of my grandparents and other loved ones. I know lots of people who don't like cemeteries--who tell me they don't go to funerals or to cemeteries because it's "too depressing." But me, I cherish those Memorial Day trips to the cemetery. They've been a time to remember--rejoice--and reflect on the people whose lives have made an eternal imprint on my life--Grandmothers who taught me about faith and cooking and Grandfathers who taught me to love the land and to read the Bible out loud.
I also like seeing the name "Rapp" on a headstone. It makes me think about how I'm living this one "wild and precious" life that I've been given. It reminds me to number my days and look at my life through the lens of eternity.
In 2003, the Kansas Health Foundation published a calendar that had this story on it: "On a day when the snow drifted high around our farmhouse, my teacher, who lived with my family during the winter, had me follow her to the one-room schoolhouse so I could walk safely in her tracks. I often think about the life trail I'm leaving for others and wonder who is following in my tracks."
This Memorial Day, I'll be thanking God for the "life trail" that people have made for me along the way and I'll be thinking about what "life trail" I'm leaving for others...
About Me
- revgayla
- I am a United Methodist pastor serving a small rural church in Kansas. I am blessed with an amazing family and group of wonderful friends. I have a dog name Jeff...yes, Jeff! By the grace of God, I'm growing and learning for the sake of becoming more loving and compassionate (aka "perfection"). I believe God is revealing to us a new way to live--an "alternative wisdom"--that values understanding, compassion, justice, deep truth, mystery and, above all, love.
1 comment:
I love memorial day too. Usually though I had to also play in the band at all our local cemeteries. The flowers we planted were on my father's grave. The graveyard was in our church's backyard. Every Sunday I would go back there and look around. There was an old pump where we would get water for the plants. When I wasn't watering plants I would pump and put my head under it and get a drink. It was wonderfully cold. Wish I was there now!
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