~as we find our own destiny~
~Memorial Day weekend, 2020~
As a child growing up on the prairies of south central Kansas, I learned the practice of walking through cemeteries. It was shown to me by my mother and grandmother, two women who throughout their lives extolled the virtue of honoring the dead who have gone on before us. From the earliest of times when my mom would hold my hand as we made our way amongst the rows of graves until now when I am an aging woman myself, I have found peace and joy in visiting the graveyards of the dead. Walking through that sacred and holy ground is a blessing that I do not take for granted.
Not everyone feels that way about being in a cemetery and that's ok.
I do.
I was raised up in a family that called this special weekend Decoration Day. Every single year without fail, my mom and her two sisters plus my Grandmother Brown would load up tin cans filled with blooms from the garden and take them to the family plots in the Halstead city cemetery as well as the Quaker cemetery north of town. The smell of Sweet Williams, roses, peonies, and irises would emanate from the trunk of the car as one by one, family graves were adorned for the special holiday. Afterwards we would walk amongst the graves of not only family members but other folks as well. I always enjoyed listening to my grandmother speak of people she knew and as a lifelong resident of the Halstead, Kansas community, there weren't many people she didn't know of. It was like having an oral history lesson each time I was with her. At an early age, I learned a valuable lesson and that lesson is this~
Mike and I went home yesterday to south central Kansas to decorate a few of the graves at Laurel Cemetery just outside of my hometown of Haven. First we stopped at the grave of my sister Sherry to pay our respects. The flowers we brought looked colorful next to the marker that both she and I share with one another. I am sure there was a smile on my face when I placed them there because I was recalling not the dying part of her 70 years of life, but rather the living part.
Every time I visit, I always kneel down on my side of our grave and ask Mike to take my picture. Even though at first it seemed kind of eerily strange to see my name on a gravestone, I am now used to it. I understand and accept my own mortality. It truly is nice to know where I will be buried when my time comes. It's peaceful there in a place that holds the earthly remains of so many people that I grew up knowing as a small town Kansas girl.
From Sherry's grave, I set out to another part of the cemetery on a mission to honor my grandmother's act of kindness in placing flowers on the grave of a total stranger. In my desire to carry on her selfless tradition, I had been thinking about who I could honor. It came to mind that it would be nice to find someone who might not have had the chance to physically place flowers on the grave of one of their ancestors and the person who came to mind was a young man named Andy Astle who lives in Melbourne, England. His great-great grandfather, Richard Astle, is buried in Laurel Cemetery. From years of visiting the cemetery, I pretty much knew where the Astle family was interred. So I set out to find it and within a few minutes I was standing at the gravesite. It was an honor to place two simple bouquets of silk flowers on both sides of the well over 100 year old upright marker.
We had only been there for a moment when from behind me I heard a voice calling to us and asking if we were part of the Astle family. I turned around to find a very nice woman who had been out decorating graves herself that day. As a matter fact, she was the one who had placed the flowers in front of the Astle's gravestone just prior to our arrival. I smiled and said that no we weren't and then the strangest of stories began to unfold.
She told us her name was Ann and that she was born an Astle and had been out placing flowers at the grave sites of each family member. We explained who we were, that I had grown up in Haven, and that Mike and I now lived in Newkirk, Oklahoma. I told Ann that I was there to honor Andy and his family by putting the flowers out for his great-great grandparents and that Andy lived well over 4,000 miles away in England. Right then and there we all decided that it would be fun to make a video call to Andy not only so he could see his great-great grandfather's grave but also to meet this long lost cousin from Kansas named Ann. Through the magic of modern technology, we were visiting with him via Facetime in only a matter of seconds. Each of us had smiles on our faces as we listened to him speak. I couldn't help but to wonder what Richard Astle would have thought to know that a time would come in the future when communicating with others around the world would be as a simple as pushing a button on a cell phone.
My, how this world has changed!
It was perhaps the most memorable of cemetery visits that I will ever encounter. We came away with happy hearts knowing that we had done the right thing to honor the dead as well as making new friends along the way. It was no accident that Ann was placed into the very same path as Mike and I were on yesterday. It wasn't some random act of the universe whereby God didn't know what to do with us so he just threw us all together. It was meant to be and how wonderful it is to find our destiny every single time it happens.
Be watching for your destiny dear friends and family.
It can happen in the most unusual of places.
Places like a cemetery.
As a child growing up on the prairies of south central Kansas, I learned the practice of walking through cemeteries. It was shown to me by my mother and grandmother, two women who throughout their lives extolled the virtue of honoring the dead who have gone on before us. From the earliest of times when my mom would hold my hand as we made our way amongst the rows of graves until now when I am an aging woman myself, I have found peace and joy in visiting the graveyards of the dead. Walking through that sacred and holy ground is a blessing that I do not take for granted.
Not everyone feels that way about being in a cemetery and that's ok.
I do.
I was raised up in a family that called this special weekend Decoration Day. Every single year without fail, my mom and her two sisters plus my Grandmother Brown would load up tin cans filled with blooms from the garden and take them to the family plots in the Halstead city cemetery as well as the Quaker cemetery north of town. The smell of Sweet Williams, roses, peonies, and irises would emanate from the trunk of the car as one by one, family graves were adorned for the special holiday. Afterwards we would walk amongst the graves of not only family members but other folks as well. I always enjoyed listening to my grandmother speak of people she knew and as a lifelong resident of the Halstead, Kansas community, there weren't many people she didn't know of. It was like having an oral history lesson each time I was with her. At an early age, I learned a valuable lesson and that lesson is this~
You can learn many things from the dead if you are only willing to stop, read their marker, and listen to the story they have to tell.The Brown Family has many markers in both cemeteries. The Quaker cemetery is where my great-great grandmother, Rebecca Burch, is buried. The monument outside the gates of the Fairview burial grounds was placed many years ago by the local DAR, one that was erected to honor the fact that Rebecca Burch was the last living pensioner of a Revolutionary War veteran. We made it a point to always spend a little extra time at Fairview and it was there that I learned of my family's heritage. Often times as we spoke at the cemetery, Grandmother Brown would remind me of my British family roots. She recalled the story many times of how the Brown family left their home in the heart of London, England to make their way to America. The graves that we were decorating honored their lives and even though I would never once meet them, I felt as if I had known them all along, as well I should~
Their blood runs through me.I was a witness to many special things each time I was blessed enough to walk through a cemetery with my mom, aunts, and grandmother. I have seen them find a broken stone and pay for the repair of fixing it, watched my mom bend down and wipe the dust away from the face of my sister's marker, and have stood back silently to watch a tear fall down their faces as they remembered a loved one that was long gone. Once when I had taken Grandmother Brown to the Fairview Cemetery, I was a witness to her placing the flowers she had remaining on the grave of a total stranger who had none on Decoration Day. These kinds of acts of respect and honor stayed with me and helped to shape the character of the person I was to become.
Mike and I went home yesterday to south central Kansas to decorate a few of the graves at Laurel Cemetery just outside of my hometown of Haven. First we stopped at the grave of my sister Sherry to pay our respects. The flowers we brought looked colorful next to the marker that both she and I share with one another. I am sure there was a smile on my face when I placed them there because I was recalling not the dying part of her 70 years of life, but rather the living part.
From Sherry's grave, I set out to another part of the cemetery on a mission to honor my grandmother's act of kindness in placing flowers on the grave of a total stranger. In my desire to carry on her selfless tradition, I had been thinking about who I could honor. It came to mind that it would be nice to find someone who might not have had the chance to physically place flowers on the grave of one of their ancestors and the person who came to mind was a young man named Andy Astle who lives in Melbourne, England. His great-great grandfather, Richard Astle, is buried in Laurel Cemetery. From years of visiting the cemetery, I pretty much knew where the Astle family was interred. So I set out to find it and within a few minutes I was standing at the gravesite. It was an honor to place two simple bouquets of silk flowers on both sides of the well over 100 year old upright marker.
We had only been there for a moment when from behind me I heard a voice calling to us and asking if we were part of the Astle family. I turned around to find a very nice woman who had been out decorating graves herself that day. As a matter fact, she was the one who had placed the flowers in front of the Astle's gravestone just prior to our arrival. I smiled and said that no we weren't and then the strangest of stories began to unfold.
She told us her name was Ann and that she was born an Astle and had been out placing flowers at the grave sites of each family member. We explained who we were, that I had grown up in Haven, and that Mike and I now lived in Newkirk, Oklahoma. I told Ann that I was there to honor Andy and his family by putting the flowers out for his great-great grandparents and that Andy lived well over 4,000 miles away in England. Right then and there we all decided that it would be fun to make a video call to Andy not only so he could see his great-great grandfather's grave but also to meet this long lost cousin from Kansas named Ann. Through the magic of modern technology, we were visiting with him via Facetime in only a matter of seconds. Each of us had smiles on our faces as we listened to him speak. I couldn't help but to wonder what Richard Astle would have thought to know that a time would come in the future when communicating with others around the world would be as a simple as pushing a button on a cell phone.
My, how this world has changed!
It was perhaps the most memorable of cemetery visits that I will ever encounter. We came away with happy hearts knowing that we had done the right thing to honor the dead as well as making new friends along the way. It was no accident that Ann was placed into the very same path as Mike and I were on yesterday. It wasn't some random act of the universe whereby God didn't know what to do with us so he just threw us all together. It was meant to be and how wonderful it is to find our destiny every single time it happens.
Be watching for your destiny dear friends and family.
It can happen in the most unusual of places.
Places like a cemetery.
It's a long ways from Reno County, Kansas to Derbyshire County, England.
~4,427 miles of a long way~
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