We drove through the cemetery entrance and parked, taking a breath, putting everything else aside to remember. Even with time passing, it seems hard to believe we remember at a grave rather than celebrate at Lucy Mae’s three-year old birthday party. It’s become clear the truth of it will never be easy.
We walked to the grave, a world away, quiet in holy silence. Graves line the grounds, names etched in stone, dates of death pressed in with grief and heartbreak, holding stories to be told. We focus on one; we stand, staring at the marker, familiar and far away. It’s life not death that we come for.
Together in different places, we declare our love and continued need for one another. In the silence, we hear our hearts beat as one, kneeling to touch the ground, placing flowers on the cold, hard stone, remembering and memorizing the gift of life.
Grief remains; the weight of it lessened, flowing into a deep river of sorrow, intertwining with faith, strengthening belief, lessening doubt. There’s never been a day we didn’t know and didn’t believe . . .
Life overcomes death.
Life cannot and will not be held in a grave.
Life is not meant to stay on earth but to reside in heaven.
There was a holiness in the silence as we stood in our sorrow amongst the grave markers, something many fear but long to possess, a strength in knowing there’s more to come. Just before we left, light burst upon us, streaming down upon little Lucy Mae’s grave.
Her name means light. I thought: How kind of You, God. Thank You for showing us there’s a celebration close by . . a beautiful celebration of light and love . . . a party beyond imagination.
To our little Lucy: I love you. Shine on, sweet one.
And. To you: I pray you will celebrate the gift of life today.
We will be sending The Red Door Prayer and Information Publication for March in a couple of weeks. We are praying for many individuals to stand with us.