Waiting on the dead to arrive

I needed today’s sunshine, colors of Fall, and even the roses in my backyard. It’s a time of  the year when emotions are up and down faster than I can turn around, so I knew I had to get out of the house.

After visiting my sons and daughter-n-love for a bit, I ran some errands and decided to buy some seasonal flowers to change out those on my parents’ grave. I didn’t want my mother’s birthday to slip up on me without doing so. Even after twenty years, I still value her opinion.

Of course, to visit my parents’ grave is to visit my husband’s, as they are next to each other. I’m that name in the middle that’s still living their dash — their earthly dates are complete.

As I pulled into the cemetery, I noticed an all-to-familiar site — tents set up, freshly dug grave, and chairs to hold the grieving. But the chairs weren’t completely empty; there were several men, not dressed in suits and ties, but t-shirts, jeans and boots. They are the men who lay us all to rest, just waiting on the dead to arrive.

What kind of job is that? I can’t imagine what goes through their minds, as they dig yet another grave, stand in rain or shine, hot or cold, watching mourners grieve with hope and with hopelessness. Their customers all get the same respectful and final treatment, no matter their background, nationality, language, religion or sex.

We all die. It’s unavoidable, and someone has to deal with us.

The older I get, the more death I see, and the more death I expect, but I don’t want to be just sitting around, waiting for it. I can’t, not even on a beautiful day like today, because when I do, I forget to live. I forget to take joy in the simple blessings all around me. I forget that my days are numbered with a purpose. Not just numbered because death is inevitable, but numbered in that each one must count.

I can’t sit around waiting on my day to come or for Jesus to return, as much as I want that to happen. I can’t, because he’s got plans for me, he’s still forming Christ in me too. Besides, I don’t need to sit around waiting for death, because I know I’ll be taken good care of here and above when my time comes.

So, I’ll let others do the waiting. I’ll go on living.

What about you?

Grace and Peace


2 thoughts on “Waiting on the dead to arrive

  1. I’ve often wondered about those guys too … what that must feel like to dig the holes… then plow them over…
    More pondering over your additional insights … not a bad thing to contemplate something that WILL definitely happen one day. Thanks!

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