"Cause for Pause"

"Arise, O God, plead thine own cause: remember how the foolish man reproacheth thee daily." (Psalms 74:22) Yesterday was pretty awesome, because I was able to get a plot in the cemetery for my son, my wife and myself; not just any cemetery, but the one within the district we moved into when we first moved up here from southern California. As I gazed across the green pastures of the ten acre park, I did not see any place that seemed to jump out at me, so asked the Caretaker to show me his chart. It was a cardboard chart, about 2' x 3', with sectioned off areas containing hundreds of little squares; each square represented ten grave plots. As a gazed down at the chart, there still was no significant difference from one square to the other, so I decided to pick a number, and I picked square 77. We walked over to the site, and we began talking about how the bodies should be arranged, as to what order we should be buried side by side. I decided that my son would be buried in plot six, my wife in plot seven, and I in plot eight. Then we got in a discussion about the headstones, and I noticed some were facing one way and some were facing the other way, and I had to ask why. It turns out, some people want the headstone to be able to be read while walking towards the grave, while others want it to be read over the grave; but no matter which way it is read, the headstone is always at the head, and the head is always pointing west. I had to ask why; and I was told, that it was because the morning that they rise, when they rise up, they will be facing the sun. We then discussed other plot options, such as for any of my other family members that might want to be buried along side of us. I am choosing casket burials for my son, my wife and myself, but many of my family members just want to be cremated and put in a jar. I have been doing a little research on the matter, and decided that I would choose to respect the body God has allowed me to dwell in, and I would have it laid to rest, instead of having it destroyed by fire. Anywho, as we looked at a headstone nearby that was for a plot holding up to six urns, I turned back towards my site and noticed a familiar face nearby; it was the picture of Dawn Burroughs that was on her headstone. I instantly grabbed hold of the Caretaker's arm, and let out a huge sigh of amazement. He thought that I had hurt my self, or twisted an ankle, because I was just about to start crying. Of all those hundreds of squares, I chose the square right next to Dawn's! Dawn was Marianne's first real friend when we moved up here in 1990, and they were both seeing the same fertility doctor, hoping against odds to have more children. What a glorious day it will be; what a glorious day that will be! None of this will really matter then; everything will be new and beautiful, beyond our wildest dreams...
"He was oppressed and treated harshly, yet He never said a word. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter. And as a sheep is silent before the shearers, He did not open His mouth. Unjustly condemned, He was led away. No one cared that He died without descendants, that His life was cut short in midstream. But He was struck down for the rebellion of my people. He had done no wrong and had never deceived anyone. But He was buried like a criminal; He was put in a rich man's grave." (Isaiah 53:7-9) NLT