The birds sing their spring song of life and love as the butterflies trace their winding path through grass and dust and family: renewal amid the sadness, birth amid the death. And we remember.
The ancient words of truth are read in a deep baritone that breaks the stillness of the noonday lethargy as a resounding triumph: truth amid the questions, comfort amid the pain. And we pray.
The man I am just growing to know clasps my weak hand in his strong one, watching an old love bid farewell for a time: love amid the grief, future amid the past. And we weep.
The children laugh and run, peering into a grave that as yet has no meaning, wending their way through tears as rays of hope: levity amid the sorrow, hope amid the despair. And we laugh.
And through it all we know,
That this is not the end.
That one day our temporal bodies,
Will rise again.
And so we remember and pray and weep and laugh; gathering to remember death and life and love. And we know little save that we trust. Trust in the truth. Trust in the light. Trust in a love so great as to give His life.
For the Lord is our strength, our hope, and our might.
"The Lord is my strength and my shield;
My heart trusts in Him, and I am helped;
Therefore my heart exults,
And with my song I shall thank Him."
