A Sunday Journey To The Grave

I haven't been to the grave all winter. 

The grave that holds my first born. 

My son. 

The snow piles high and there is no passage to the cemetery except on foot. 

I know he is not there. 

I know he reigns above. 

He is in joy beyond all measure. 

He will never experience pain, or heartbreak. 

His journey complete.
He's home. 

Waiting for us. 

But we are here.

And to the grave I travel.

This day when the sun warms the earth to the high 40's. 

The Sabbath. 

The day of rest. 

Someone had placed a wreath I never seen. 

A handmade wreath in the shape of a heart. 

Browned now from the ice cold of the winter that didn't let go. 

A heart on the grave of one who was living. 

Who left the house with no intention of dying.

The one for whom my heart shatters a little more each day. 

I gather the wreaths and place them in my car. 

I have been the Secretary for the Cemetery Committee for 13 years. 

I know the mess to clean up each Spring. 

I do my duty and clear my own space. 

The space meant for me. 

My grave. 

Now holds my son. 

I choke back tears as I move through the motions. 

I close the trunk. 

A heart. 

The wreath was in the shape of a heart. 

A heart in the sky as the sun rose the morning he met the King of Kings.  

A heart in my latte. 

A heart. 

A symbol of love. 

Love. 

Love worn deep. 

John 15:3

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.

There is no greater love than Christ laying down his life for you and me. 

There is no greater display of love for a person. 
The messages of His love demonstrated in so many ways. 
Reminding me, encouraging me.
Renewing me for the rest of the journey. 
His example of love transcends understanding. 

I don't want to miss these treasures from heaven. 

This Love given freely. 

A gift for the taking. 

A renewing and refreshing of your Spirit.

Grace.

He died. 

He rose again. 

For me. 

For you. 

He's coming back. 

Are you ready? 

Do you know Him? 

Are you able to rest in Him; find the peace that is so freely offered;
And the hope that awaits all?  
Give him the reigns. 

It Is Well With My Soul  (David Nevue)
Won't you let this song pour over you as you seek the quiet
and let God fill all the hurt and the pain.
As you praise Him for this Glorious new day.
We sang it at his funeral. We sing it in the days we wait until we meet again.
My soul. . . my soul. . . it is well.