“His glory covered the heavens and his praise filled the earth, His splendor was like the sunrise; rays flashed from his hand, where his power was hidden.” (Habakkuk 3:3b,4)
I went to the grave this morning to replace the once pink geraniums and withered vines with a mum plant, bursting with soft purple blossoms, one I knew Mama would have loved.I hadn’t been to the grave in weeks, an unusual break of custom for me, but after months of faithful visits, tending and watering the summer blooms, often crying, and always reminiscing, a persistent grief had encompassed me, a grief I had been trying to shake by avoiding the tradition. So on this crisp autumn morning, I faced grief in order to bring beauty.
The little country cemetery was quiet. Sunshine flooded the diamonded dew.
As I stopped the car, close to the grave site, two old wild turkeys left low branches of a century-old maple at the edge of the cemetery and flew a short distance to the ground, their heavy bodies lighting not far from Mom and Dad’s grave.
I wondered how many times Mom and Dad had seen these very birds from the kitchen window of their yellow house – across the road from this cemetery – in their daily rituals of watching families of turkeys roam the countryside. I wondered if these two turkeys had followed Mom and Dad to their final resting place, perhaps waiting their own time to pass, as well. They fled when I lifted the latch gate, took the plant, and walked the few, somber steps to the stone.
Together Forever, I read.
“Mama, Daddy,” I cried, as I had so many times before.
As I grieved, I stepped behind the stone and discovered that since my last visit,the bronze plaque had been set in place, the honor bestowed Daddy by the Veterans Administration. I pulled out my cell phone and took a picture of it to send to my sister, but it wasn’t until after I later opened the electronic picture that I saw the rays of sun flooding over the tombstone and into my lens.
I considered the “splendor” of the morning and the sun rays that “flash from his hand.” I was reminded of his “power”– the power that lifted the very souls from Daddy and Mama’s aged bodies; the power that will one day lift those broken bodies out of that grave and transform them into perfect models of their once young, vibrant beings; the power that will bring us all together again; “His divine power” that “has given us everything . . . and has given us his very great and precious promises . . .” (1 Peter 1:4). . .
