they killed the old man in the cave
***
FAITHLESSNESS … MAYBE THIS HAS TO BE THE DESTINY OF MAN
I drove down to Cajun country today, to the cemetery where my parents now lie in rest.
A friend whose father is buried there came with me. She didn’t remember where the grave was as she hadn’t been there since a young girl.
We found it.
There are stories buried there, some known and some lost, but after we left we went to the local VFW hall which is named after one of her uncles and discovered many things there from some of the people who hold such things important.
I was able to share some of the little stories I know first hand, some of my experiences, and some of the people I have known and loved who are no longer here.
I love cemeteries. They are filled with the remembrances of great deeds, human frailty, and the sad stories of those innocent souls who barely had a chance to live and experience the ups and downs of existence.
Reflecting on these things sustains my faith.
It seems there are fewer and fewer of us around. Fewer who take heed of the old man in the cave. Fewer who have faith in something more than themselves, and more who openly dismiss the things they can’t understand.
They’d just as soon kill the old man in the cave. Strut proudly around his battered body. Stomp on his bones. Declare his admonitions empty and then declare as gospel the only truths they know ... there is none but I.
Only then to die ... through faithlessness.
And maybe this indeed has to be the destiny of man.
FAITHLESSNESS … MAYBE THIS HAS TO BE THE DESTINY OF MAN
I drove down to Cajun country today, to the cemetery where my parents now lie in rest.
A friend whose father is buried there came with me. She didn’t remember where the grave was as she hadn’t been there since a young girl.
We found it.
There are stories buried there, some known and some lost, but after we left we went to the local VFW hall which is named after one of her uncles and discovered many things there from some of the people who hold such things important.
I was able to share some of the little stories I know first hand, some of my experiences, and some of the people I have known and loved who are no longer here.
I love cemeteries. They are filled with the remembrances of great deeds, human frailty, and the sad stories of those innocent souls who barely had a chance to live and experience the ups and downs of existence.
Reflecting on these things sustains my faith.
It seems there are fewer and fewer of us around. Fewer who take heed of the old man in the cave. Fewer who have faith in something more than themselves, and more who openly dismiss the things they can’t understand.
They’d just as soon kill the old man in the cave. Strut proudly around his battered body. Stomp on his bones. Declare his admonitions empty and then declare as gospel the only truths they know ... there is none but I.
Only then to die ... through faithlessness.
And maybe this indeed has to be the destiny of man.