Originally posted May 23, 2009
When I was a little girl, every once in a while my parents would take my brother and me to the cemetery. We'd walk among the headstones, then pause at those of my great grandparents. Some of them I loved and cherished in life; some I never knew. But my parents told me stories and recounted our family's history. They made sure they gave me an understanding of where I came from.
My grandpa passed away when I was 12. I remember that first summer following his death, accompanying my grandma to the cemetery to water the flowers at his headstone. She told me stories about him; about them. I treasure those times. They helped me know and remember my grandpa.
I've always desired to give our boys that same appreciation and understanding of their family's past. I want them to see how and where they fit into the big picture. I want them to hear and see stories of God's grace and faithfulness repeated throughout generations.
When they were very small, my husband and I began the tradition of taking our boys to the cemeteries on Memorial Day. They've heard many of the same stories that we were told when we were children. Their dad has told them about their great-great-great grandpa who was a POW in the Civil War. We've told them stories of several of their great grandpas who served in World War II. While serving in Okinawa, Grandpa Dick mailed an engagement ring to the love of his life...the woman who became their great grandma. Our boys never knew him, but his touch is all over their lives. Our oldest son has framed black and white photos of the plane in which his great great uncle flew in World War II hanging in his bedroom. We've told them the story of their great uncle who was missing in action in the Korean War. The fact that he never returned home changed the complexion of his family forever. But even in that loss, God's grace abounded.
There are so many more stories I could share; so many snapshots that have come to life over the years. As we trace the past and recount the stories, we look back to a time when the lives of loved ones were devoid of a living relationship with Jesus Christ. There was religion, but no relationship. There was hoping, but no HOPE. There was a lot of doing, but no DONE.
But then God broke in. Through painful loss, broken families, and bitter marriages, He took sinners like you and me and gave them a complete makeover. He lavished His grace and mercy upon the lives of loved ones, forgiving their sin, washing them clean, and making them new. They had a story of grace to share. And share they did.
These ancestors were faithful to tell the next generation what Christ had done in their lives. They spoke of the reality and the joy of walking with Jesus. The change He made in them was real. Compelling. Appealing.
I'm confident that they prayed for those who came after them, including me. I know the prayers of some of these I never even knew have shaped my life. I'm sure they were instrumental in me placing my faith and trust in Jesus as a young girl. And I'm guessing that God was answering those same prayers when my husband and each of our three boys placed their faith in Christ alone for salvation.
So as we walk among the headstones at the cemetery this Monday, we're going to re-tell the familiar stories. We're going to tell the stories of courage and victory and pain and loss. But most of all, we're going to look back and see how God has done what He's promised. He's graciously loved, carried, and provided in every situation; He's been sufficient, able, and faithful for those I've loved...and He will be to the end.
"When your children ask in time to come, 'What do these stones mean to you?' then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it passed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial forever." Joshua 4:6-7
