The Candlelight Sanctuary

Today, I stood in the 80 deg. sunshine, alone, next to the heaped up earth where yesterday many of us stood huddled under a small tent in the damp, cold and gloom of the midmorning, graveside service. Now, nothing remains but a mound of dirt, the spray from the casket and an assortment of other flowers.
We had gathered to bury a cousin from my wife’s side of the family. A lady who was just four years old when Connie and I married now, deceased at only forty-two, succumbing to complications of a long fight with diabetes. Realizing that none of us are guaranteed tomorrow, the number of years still seems only half a life.
I didn’t stay but a few minutes and don’t know why I went. Perhaps it was because of some things that were said during the service at the funeral home. I had called the motel where family members from out of state were staying before I went to the cemetery, but found no one there. So, it could be that I thought I might find some of her siblings visiting the grave before they returned home to Illinois, and a possibility of ministering to someone who needed comforting. Connie and I will stay close to those who live here and assist, especially her mother, as the need arises confident in the knowledge that the death of His saints is precious in the sight of the Lord.