The Gravedigger

 

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There he is, the Gravedigger.  

As I sit in my big white “prayer chair” I look out the window that gives me a direct view of the back portion of the cemetery that belongs to the church that is our neighbour to the south of us.  I saw his blinking light on his machine, as he slowly made his way to the spot where he is to dig.  He positioned his excavator and got out, and walked to the place he was to dig, and then very carefully walked out the measurement, literally drawing a line in the snow with his boot.  And then slowly and it feels with great respect, he digs.  I know from having an excavator in my family (Alvin) that some of the things I see him doing, are to make the hole precise, and the ground around it also level, so that those who place the treasured box down, do not have to worry about uneven ground.  It is a process not to be hurry and I cannot help but wonder what is going through this man’s thoughts.  He knows that it has to be exact.  Bigger than what is needed but not much.  He knows that he is working in an area that has other loved ones buried close by,  I can tell that this is not the firs t grave that he has dug.  He gets out to do a visual inspection.  Everything is important.  The depth, the width and the length.  He hops back in to do some more work.

Meanwhile around him, all is still.  Snow has covered everything now.  Snow came late to our part of the country, but everything has a blanket of white.  The trees are bare, and grey.  The grasses yellowy brown but still moving with a slight wind.  Not enough wind to move the wind ornament, but enough to make the bullrushes gently sway.  

The mud pile is growing, and with each bucketful, the arm of the excavator goes deeper into the hole.  Even that has to be even on the bottom, so that the casket lays level.  Nothing about this process is rushed.  It is slow, precise, careful.  Even in death, rules have to be followed.Even in death, there is a process.  And I have been given a front row seat as I sit here watching and typing.  The Gravedigger is out again, smoothing things, tossing a big clump of mud, still warm from the long autumn season, back into the hole.  He grabs his hood from the back and pulls it over his head.  

This process of digging is not foreign to me, as we have seen the Gravedigger several times at the cemetery.  And my thoughts go back to 27 and 28 years ago when our men went out to dig the grave at Balsam Bay Cemetery, first of all in May, for my Mum’s burial and then a year and a half later for my Dad’s burial in November.  There was no excavator, but just a group of men who loved the person they were digging the hole for.  One shovel full at a time, bringing out the sandy soil that is at the cemetery alongside of Lake Winnipeg.  A labour of deep respect.  A labour of love.  And then once the casket is lowered, the shovels are shared around, and family covers in the hole, and makes it complete.  

The Gravedigger next door is gone now - as I type this, the casket has obviously been placed, and the mud put back in on top of the treasured remains in the wooden box buried deep below.  He has finished the task and he and his excavation have left the graveyard.  

As I watched him, I could not help but think of life.  Seeing a grave being dug is a reminder of how quickly life goes by.  The Bible describes our life as a vapour or mist.  And sometimes when I look at how quickly the years are passing, it actually is unbelievable.

Seems as I age, I am attending more funerals.  I remember when I used to laugh that my mum and dad’s social life consisted of funerals.  It seemed they were just going to one after another. 

Life is but a vapour …

Our life matters.  It is a story that God has written.  HIS story written with us.  The Gravedigger likely doesn’t know the story of most of the people whose remains he buries.  But I wonder what his thoughts are as he digs the hole in which to lay the casket.  I have come to see in life that what we will leave behind a legacy - whether good or bad.  Each one of us will lay down a legacy.  

When I looked at the definition I saw two things.  The first one is this: 1) legacy : an amount of money or property left to someone in a will.  And the second definition is 2) the long-lasting impact of particular events, actions, etc. that took place in the past, or of a person’s life.

I am not going to talk about the first definition.  I do realize as my son put it one day, that their generation (my kids are 42 and 39) are a generation that will likely be affected the most by what parents leave behind and as Josh put it, I am not sure it will all be good for our generation (or something to that affect).  I am not worried about our kids handling whatever we leave behind, as they have made good decisions in life till now, and don’t anticipate it would change.  

However the legacy that I think is the most valuable legacy is #2.  The long lasting impose of particular events, actions, etc that took place in the past, or of a person’s life.  This is what is the most important in my opinion.  And I believe this is what I received as a legacy from my Mum, my Dad, Dad K, and Mom K.   And this is the kind of legacy that I want to leave for my kids.

The legacy I desire is the kind that they know was my life all the time, not just some times when I was on good behaviour.  I want my kids to know how much I love Jesus, and why.  I want my kids to know how much I love their Dad, and how much I love them, and how much I love my grandchildren.  I want the legacy that I leave to be one that causes them to want the same for their life.  I want my life to be full of everything that God desires for me.  I want my legacy to include words of wisdom both prayed, spoken and written to them.  I want my legacy to include the way God was faithful to me, and to us as a family.  I want my legacy to include them knowing that even in the hardest times, and even if I asked the hard questions, I still believed that God was and is faithful!  And He is Sovereign.  I want my legacy to be such that they know that I lived a life of integrity.  That I was kind and honest, and that I would fight for what was right and just.  I want my legacy to include my Bibles that I have written in, drawn in, and read over the many years of my life.  

Sure, I will leave them a few bucks LORD WILLING, but the biggest things that I want to leave are everything that makes me who I am as a Daughter of the most High, and a wife who loved to love her husband and a Mom who wanted to live fully and have fun while I did, and that my kids and grandkids would remember the spontaneous things, and the laughter.  As well, that my legacy would include the feelings of being held, and hugged and laid hands on and prayed over.

There is so much more, but those are some of the things that the Gravedigger had me thinking about.  You know, we need to live a life all out for Jesus and that is my plan!  We never know when the wisp or vapour of our life is blown out, but one thing I know is, I know that I am secure in the gift of Jesus amazing love for me on the cross.  

Yes, Gravediggers do teach us something, if we are quiet enough to watch, and to sit and reflect.  

And sure, I still laugh about my son who back in 96 when I had been sick, he jokingly told me not to worry about getting my house in order, because they would just call 1-800-JUNK but please tell him what books the money is hidden in lol…. To which I replied, “Sorry we have already spent it!”  

Only God knows our first breath and our last, but my prayer is that my legacy, when the time comes, will live on in the lives of my kids .  That is my prayer.   And all caused by the Gravedigger just doing his thing in the cemetery!!  Who would have thought!