I have spent a lot of time in cemeteries. I know that sounds odd, but it’s true. When I was in college I cut grass at a local cemetery. And before my recent move I had been exercising in a cemetery near to my home. You probably think that cemeteries are the last resting places of the dead and decaying. But as strange as it sounds, cemeteries are bursting with life. I have seen all kinds of animals in cemeteries. Lots of birds and squirrels of course, owls, foxes, deer, skunks (a particular favorite of mine). Not to mention all of the people who move through one during the day. Many visiting graves, but most people in a cemetery are exercising. They have become very popular places for walkers and runners. A cemetery is a surprisingly lively place.
Now I recently moved back to the town I grew up in. I never thought I would come back here. And I am now near to my grandparent’s grave marker. I’ve been having some thoughts about going over there and checking it out. Cleaning it up a bit, or planting something there. It would thrill my mom. But I just don’t think much of grave markers. The reason is because I know that my grandparents are not under that stone. There might be some human remains left, but there are no dead people there. These people were both faithful believers in God, and as far as I am concerned they are still alive somewhere in the universe. Maybe they are sleeping with the group guardians of destiny waiting for the time when they will awake onto the Mansion Worlds (532.8). I certainly look forward to seeing them on that special place. So I certainly don’t think that they are hanging around a cemetery watching the moss grow on the stones. People of faith live in the promise of life, not death. And so where there is a gathering of the faithful, there are no dead people.
I suppose that I should do something with the stone. My mom would be thrilled. Or maybe I should just go and walk around the grounds, taking in the sights and sounds of life. A peaceful place of death, where there is no death. Just squirrels, chipmunks and skunks. The dead are going to have to find somewhere else to rest.
God Bless You,
William Whitehead
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