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Talking Tombstones
by Kathy Ellis
02/05/05
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Here I am again.

Itís 2:00 a.m.

The ground is wet... damp with dew. Or is it my tears that have fallen on this place and moistened the grass and soil beneath?

Tombstones donít mind the moisture. They are immune to every force of nature it seems, or at least they are immune to my bitter and unhappy state.

Miserable place to be. Graveyard... resting place for the dead.

It feels like home.

I had lost something here. Something precious to me. Or maybe I gave it away... let it slip from my hands without realizing its worth. These late night visits provided no solace for my spirit. What did they profit me? An exercise in foolishness some might say, but what do they know?

Restless nights, sleepless. I rise from my bed and drive to this place again and again.

Keep coming. Keep searching. Maybe you will find it this time.

ďWhat do you seek here? What do you want from us?Ē I can almost hear their voices call to me. I wish. I yearned to hear their voices again... To talk with them one more time... to capture a moment of that childhood joy that was gone. Buried along with my brother and sister.

Joy! What a treasure joy has become. How do I get it back? At what cost? Is any price too high?

He didnít think so. It cost Him his life. The ultimate price.

Why do I seek joy in a graveyard? In the dark wee hours of the morning?

Donít I know? Havenít I heard?

Joy is not here.

Joy is risen! Darkened tombs can not hold it.

Joy is not in my past. Joy is my present and future. It is not dependent on anyone or anything. It is in me.. in Him. It comes from Him and no other.

He is my joy! My Savior! My Friend! He has become my dancing partner! His voice calls to me now, ďCome and be filled. Go and proclaim the good news! Walk with me. Peace! Be still.Ē

The tombs are silent and empty now. At 2:00 a.m. His voice is all I hear.

Kathy Ellis
02/02/2005



















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