Lasting last words

My husband’s relatives are buried in a little country cemetery in the heart of orchard hills. For years on Memorial Day weekend, they have traditionally tended the graves and left flowers. As we did that this year, I wandered the little cemetery to read some of the older inscriptions that included epitaphs. I thought of my own someday, should my “time” come before the Lord’s return.

I liked this one: “Gone Home.” Another commended a mother and wife: “She gave so much and asked for so little.”  Sisters share one stone, one already gone.  I heard she suffered from severe diabetes. Under her name: “Determined in His love.” Then there’s a stone for a remarkable, godly couple.  In life they suffered with a degenerating  heart and quadriplegia from an auto accident. Finally, both died of cancer. But as I read their inscription, ”See you in Paradise,” I recalled how they embraced life with a joyful faith that focused on others, not themselves. One woman’s stone included a freestyle verse about her hard work and love: "Always there/Always with a wink and a smile/Always tireless dedication/Always with her love/All ways perfect-ly Susie."

 In reading these, I thought of a cemetery in Bridgeport, Conn., where an impressive, tall stone marks the remains of P.T. Barnum of circus fame.  In the same cemetery is a simple stone that says, “Aunt Fanny. She hath done what she could.”  It’s the burial spot for Fanny Crosby, the blind hymn writer who composed lyrics to more than 8,000 hymns, including “To God Be the Glory.”  The simplicity of her body’s resting place matched her desire that attention for what she did in life go to the Lord.

 As I walked among the stones, Psalm 15’s description of a righteous person came to mind: “Lord, who may dwell in your sanctuary? Who may live on your holy hill?  He whose walk is blameless and who does what is righteous” (vv.1-2).

My parents wanted total cremation, with money saved in funeral costs given to missions. Their ashes had no resting place, so there is no cemetery I can visit to remember them. But when I tag along to this little country cemetery with the family I gained through marriage, I appreciate this custom of visiting...and recalling. Every day I live, how I live is part of my legacy.  It may not get chiseled into a memorial stone, but it will be reviewed at the throne of God.To borrow a line from the stone of that self-sacrificing mom, it’s His Son who truly gave so much—His life on a cross—so that I might have the hope of life beyond the grave.