Grace Community Christian Church

 

Archived Things Above

35 Miles to the Cemetery (6/28/06)

There are certain events in life you just don't want to be late for, & the funeral of your mother is one of them. So, early last Saturday morning, I left the Quality Inn in Hyde Park, NY, & headed out to be certain I knew the way to the Pleasant Plains Cemetery on Fiddler's Bridge Road.

I had been there only twice before- in 1988 for my uncle's funeral, & a year later for my grandfather's. The cemetery is located about a mile from Clinton Hollow, site of some of my earliest & best childhood memories. Clinton Hollow was where my six cousins lived on a farm, deep in the wilderness of Dutchess County. For a city-boy from Long Island, visits to see the cousins were paradise! Cowboys & Indians, hide & seek, jumping into the hayloft, sledding, swimming in the muddy pond, tractor rides, splitting wood, cows, horses, camping. Everything a boy could want!

Now I was returning as a man, & while the memories of good times were strong, the memories of roads & places & directions were not. I knew the cemetery was roughly eight miles from town, but I wasn't exactly sure where the road was to get me there. I wanted to be able to leave explicit directions for the several carloads that would be traversing the lush green Hudson River Valley countryside in just a few hours.

Turns out, it took me thirty-five miles to go eight miles! I missed my road & ended up going way north, through the town of Rhinebeck, which was neat because I unexpectedly drove by the Dutchess County Fairgrounds, rich with memories of Ferris wheel rides, cotton candy, caramel apples, & everything else eight-year old boys love about county fairs! It had been almost forty years since I'd been there.

Eventually I ended up on the Taconic Parkway & meandered south, down to the exit that looked right. The past continued to flood in as I drove by houses & stores & landscapes that had changed little in the intervening decades. I found the cemetery & was able to spend some intimate, emotional time at the piece of earth that would soon receive my mom.

As I navigated back to the hotel, keeping careful track of turns & mileage so I could give accurate directions to the others, it dawned on me that I had just traveled thirty-five miles to go eight miles, so I could lead my family to the cemetery. But Jesus traveled across time & space from Heaven's glory so that he could lead us out of the cemetery. The hair stood up on the back of my neck as I thought on that, & I get goose bumps even now as I share it with you.

I hate death. It's not what God intended. It rips families & hearts apart. The finality of it just echoes like a dull thud in the lives it leaves behind. (Jesus didn't care much for death, either; he interrupted every funeral he came across with a resurrection!) I hate the way I can hardly breathe when that painful lump forms in my throat, & the words can't come, & the tears erupt endlessly & that junk clogs up my nose until it drips like a leaky faucet & all I can do is sob & shake & hope no one is watching.

Fortunately for me, these moments have been relatively rare in my life. And they do serve to remind me that I still have a heart. I still love & care & can be wounded by the loss of another. Sometimes I wonder. But then grief sneaks up & I am ambushed by my humanity & it feels good in a strange sort of way.

Odds are, one day my children will be leading their families to a cemetery somewhere for my burial. I hope their knowledge of Jesus' journey to lead us out of it will be as comforting to them then as it is to me now.

"Since the children are made of flesh and blood, it's logical that the Savior took on flesh and blood in order to rescue them by his death. By embracing death, taking it into himself, he destroyed the Devil's hold on death and freed all who cower through life, scared to death of death." (Hebrews 2:14-15, Message)


Jim Dewar --