Yesterday, I got in the car and drove to one of my favorite places on earth: an old cemetery.
This cemetery, filled with the “peace that passes all understanding” (Phil 4:7), was in the neighborhood where my family lived for twenty years. Walking there nearly every day, I had found a solace that touched eternity. I had hoped I would never have to move too far from this place where heaven felt so close.
But earlier this year, we moved a town away, and suddenly I could no longer walk around the corner to visit the cemetery. I knew moving away from it would be hard, but it turned out to be more wrenching than I ever expected.
As I turned into the driveway yesterday and drove past the stone gate, the old familiar scenery flooded over me. The tree-lined path that I had walked up thousands of times was bursting with fall colors. The oranges and golds were more brilliant than ever in the late-afternoon sun.
I parked and got out of the car, breathing in the autumn air and feeling like I’d come home again. Crisp leaves rustled beneath my feet as an autumn wind whispered through the quiet winding path. With all my senses alive in gratitude, I looked around, made the Sign of the Cross, and began to pray as I…