"The gravestones are like rows of books bearing the names of those whose names have been blotted from the pages of life; who have been forgotten elsewhere but are remembered here.” ~ Dean Koontz

I have always been fascinated with cemeteries and the stories they tell.  That is, as long as it doesn't involve the story of someone I have known and loved.  I know many people find comfort in visiting the gravesites of loved ones, but for me, there is no comfort in that.  I have only been to the cemetery where my father is buried a handful of times since his death thirteen years ago - - to me, I would rather remember him in places where he lived.  The only memories I have of him associated with that cemetery are sad and painful ones of the day we left his corpse there to be lowered into the ground - a day that capped off a shocking, sad, and painful week.

However, walking through a cemetery full of graves from the 1700's and 1800's is captivating.  Jeff and I have spent this week in Charleston, South Carolina.  On Monday, we toured the downtown area, and spent some time walking around in several graveyards.  (Incidentally, I learned this week that a graveyard is a burial ground that adjoins a church, as opposed to a cemetery, which does not.)  Many of the stones there were so worn by time and elements that they were illegible.  Others, however, told stories.

These days, our tombstones generally have minimal information.  You can often learn the name of the deceased, along with their birth and death dates.  Some will have relationship information on them, or a Bible verse.  But the stones we found in the graveyards in Charleston read more like obituaries.  I was particularly struck by this one . . .

This family lost six children, ranging in age of death from ten months to seventeen years.  These children died between the years 1828 and 1839.  I stood there reading their names - Robert was one year old; Frederick lived to the age of four and a half; Judith was just shy of her tenth birthday; Eliza was only ten months old; Charlotte was eighteen months old - the current age of my sweet grandchild; and James, who lived to be seventeen years old.  I wondered as I stood there how many other children the Ladson's may have had.  What pain and suffering these parents endured.  And while it was not uncommon in that period of time to lose children to death, I'm quite sure the higher death rate statistics did nothing to lessen the pain. At the bottom of the stone is this inscription:  "Dedicated in early life to the service of the Lord, we rest in faith that through Him they have obtained a more perfect inheritance."  

Another stone that fascinated me was this one . . .

Margaret Elford was only 43 years old when she died in May of 1817.  The inscription reads, "Leaving a husband with seven young children to lament their irreparable loss.  She was:  In childhood obedient; in wedlock virtuous; in prosperity humble; in adversity resigned; in sickness patient; in death happy."  I would've liked to have known Margaret.  She was obviously loved and adored by her family.  As I stood there, I wondered about the seven Elford children, and their "irreparable loss."  Again, death at the age of 43 was not that uncommon back then.  However, to the Elford family, I am sure death came way too soon for their beloved wife and mother.  

So many families affected, and so many stories among the stones we read.  These were just a few that made an impression on me.  

In the young ladies' Bible study I teach, we discussed Romans 12:9 -16 last week.  And we began that study by asking ourselves how we would want to be remembered, as this particular passage of Scripture is a very practical "how-to" guide on demonstrating God-like love.  Love without action is not love.  How am I living out that love in my life?  Additionally, the writer of Ecclesiastes stated, "It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart." (Eccl. 7:9)  

As we left that graveyard Monday afternoon, I took it to heart.  What will be written on my gravestone?  If I have suffered great loss as the Ladson family did, will I exemplify the same hope they did in the simple inscription at the bottom of the memorial to their children that continues to proclaim their faith 160 years later?  And what about the epitaph of Margaret Elford?  I can think of no greater commendation than was written about her, except maybe for the addition of "In all of life Christlike."  

Today I am making my life story, and you are making yours.  One day at a time.  And we don't know when the story will end.  So today, let's be sure we love without hypocrisy, abhor what is evil and cling to what is good.  Let's truly love one another with brotherly affection, and outdo each other in demonstrating that love.  Today, let's be zealous and fervent in our service to the Lord, as we rejoice in hope, show patience in tribulation, and have a constancy in prayer.  Let's be busy about contributing to those in need and showing hospitality today.  Let's spend today blessing those who persecute us, rejoicing with someone who is joyful, and weeping with someone who is not.  And today, let's live in harmony with all.  If I do all of those things today, and resolve to do them again tomorrow, and every day until my story ends, my story will end well.  And while there may be no epitaph written on my actual gravestone, the commemoration written on the hearts of those who share my life will be enough.  That, and the eternal salvation God has graciously offered me in Christ.  

Walk through a cemetery sometime.  It is time well-spent.