It was a year ago this week that we first walked through the house we now call home. Slightly significant but then again maybe not. I guess the interest to me is in the fact that this is not where we thought we would be but it certainly has been for the best.
Since moving I have been asked more times than I can count if it is
creepy
strange
weird
annoying
etc.
to live next to a cemetery.
When we first moved in MDH's answer was always, "No, they make great neighbors. They don't make any noise."
Which is true.
But now we've been here a while I have a few more thoughts on the subject.
I love living next to a cemetery!
Not once have I gotten a creepy vibe coming from that place. Not once. And I consider myself to be fairly in tune with feelings of that nature.
What I do feel every time I walk through there is love. Never have I felt or seen so much love in one place. I watch people come to honor and connect with those they care about who have passed on.
Some come daily and I ache for their grief.
Others weekly or monthly their sorrow just as palpable, but above all they carry love freely with them.
It is truly a blessing to be able to quietly observe and learn from those living and those whose names are marked there.
Every time I see someone being laid to rest I cry and say a quiet prayer for peace and comfort for those people gathered there, particularly when I hear Taps and a gun salute.
And I feel deep gratitude that I am allowed the opportunity to observe and remember
that each day I have with those around me I care for is a priceless gift.
It reminds me to slow down and listen attentively to those who need me.
And it reminds me that things are not what's important.
