A bike ride through the cemetary

My children enjoy riding their bikes in the spring and since we live close to the town cemetary, I took them there to ride. Now I don't know what the policy is in having people riding bikes in the cemetary, but we do try to stay low-key whenever someone is around.

You can't help read the tombstones while you are riding on the paths around the cemetary. I'm struck by the brevity of our lives. As I calculate birth and death dates written in stone, I realize many who have passed on are my age or younger. It's a sobering thought. One that causes at the same time joy and sadness in my heart. Joy for what I know is awaiting me; Sadness for those I would have to leave behind.

In my reading for today, I'm reading the account of Stephen in Acts 6. I stopped prior to his speech to the Sanhedrin, because I know the story. I know what happens in the end. I'm not going to read any more today. Time has frozen for Stephen in my Bible. He gets to live another day. I leave him with his face "like the face of an angel."

Stephen didn't know his future. Surely he thought he would be sharing the Gospel, feeding the widows, and working in the church for years to come. Other plans were in order for him. He wouldn't see the sun set that day.

I noticed one of the cemetary plots was marked by the obituary submitted to the local newspaper. I stooped to see who it was. To my surprise it was a man from our church who I had recently visited in the hospital. He had passed away only months earlier. I can still see his face.

"God, may I live every day to it's fullest not knowing if it might be my last. Amen"