The air is dry. It is dark; hazy orange and greyish-black
melt all around me. I rolled over on my left side and pulled the double layer
of quilts tighter under my chin. The zigzag shape glowed from behind the glass
of the gas stove. As it came into focus, it arrested my gaze. The bright chevron
pattern seemed trapped in its confining rows inside the big metal box. It was almost
within my reach, directly beside the pullout couch. I breathed in its warmth.
My toes are warm. Granny had brought us an extra heavy quilt.
The silhouette of her face leaned closer to my sister and I as she put the
second one on top of us; I was glad she had brought it.
The stove is on. I’m glad it’s on. Sometimes it clicks off
for a while, but it always clicks back on.
I won’t get cold.
Is everyone asleep now but me?
I flip on my back again and then breathe in. I swish my legs
like scissors between the sheets as warmth flashes across the tops of my toes
and beneath my calves. Don’t be too loud. You’ll wake them up. I flip on my side,
breathing. It’s still glowing. My toes are warm.
Rest, little girl.
Gravel spun out from under my tires as I made the quick left
turn onto another gravel road. “In 2.3 miles, turn left, then turn right.” I
couldn’t. I could not stay lost one more second or I might really lose it. I’d been to the state park I was heading to once before
and there was DEFINITELY not a gravel
road through a cemetery on the way. My phone was dying. I had searched for a
good ten minutes to find an outlet in my Granny’s basement the night before
with no luck. There wasn’t one behind the gas stove, or on any wall that I
could see that wasn’t covered with heavy furniture. Imagine that. As children
we never once needed outlets to plug in devices, so I had no idea were they
might be. I slept without charging my phone and now I was lost somewhere outside
of Milburn, KY, my apparently useless gps powers draining my battery that couldn’t
charge fast enough. When my phone finally flashed the message “Temperature:
Iphone needs to cool down before you use it.” I pulled over without thinking halfway
into the grass, halfway in the gravel. I got out of the car that seemed to be
closing in on me.
Breathe, little
girl.
The God of the universe had sat me down underneath a tree,
in a cemetery, of all places. I was not there by choice. I was lost and found at the same time. I put my hands in the
soft grass and was reassured by the feel of solid earth beneath it. Sunshine
wrapped around the tree from behind me and fractured onto the cut stone in
front of me.
I’m so sorry, Daddy.
My face was wet. The beauty of the cemetery drew me further into an intimacy with my Father that I had been avoiding. How does one describe the co-mingling of anguish and forgiveness, the volley back and fourth between releasing one fearful thought to a proclamation of praise the next? The warmth of the presence of Jesus had settled me and by now my eyes were clear. The gravestone in front of me came into focus.
SALLIE
WIFE
OF JOHN
CAVENDER
1866-1919
AT
REST
Sallie. What had her life been like? Had she had
children? Why was she not next to her husband? I tried to imagine what the
daily life of a wife at the turn of the century might have been like with
little imagination. My thoughts turned to my Granny and how she had loved us. How many times have I been challenged to think about the eventual words
on my gravestone in books and sermons? What will my legacy be? What will
they say about me? Let me tell you, I’ve
carped some diems and I still don’t feel like I’ve done anything worth
mentioning. The stone blares the question: What if today were it? What if your
next breath were your last? It was a question that I have been trained to answer
with puffed up plans, but also one that pushes me toward guilt. Our culture
says Live. Dream. Go. Be. Play. Love! Life is an emergency and we have to catch
up!
If today were
my last, if in my next breath I were raised to heaven, I can say to God that he has given me enough. I am not satisfied with my life or what I’ve done,
I am satisfied the promise of seeing the face of Jesus. Having you means I do not need another person, (though I'll take one!) a
perfect home, or an envious accomplishment with my name attached to it. My primary purpose on this earth has been to know you and I know you.
Even my satisfaction makes me want more and you will give it forever. That is what finally gives rest to my soul.
