Then I heard a voice from heaven saying to me, “Write: ‘Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on. ‘ ” “Yes,” says the Spirit, “that they may rest from their labors, and their works follow them.” Rev. 14:13

Last week I traveled back to Amite, La, my mother’s hometown in Tangipahoa Parish in Southeast Louisiana. We drove to the Hughes Family Cemetery in the rolling hills about 20 miles out Highway 16 to lead the interment service for Daniel Coleman, my brother-in-law. Going to the old dairy farm reminded me of a journey there many years ago when the matriarch of that family passed into glory. The old farmhouse stands just down the hill from the family cemetery. When my Aunt Sammie died, the funeral service was held, not in a funeral home or church (which I grew up doing) but the casket, flowers, speakers stand, and registration book were all in their living room of the house. Growing up in the city, I had never experienced this, maybe you have.

The preacher preached a long, loud sermon about sin, death, hell and our need for repentance. I think maybe somewhere along the way he might have mentioned that my Aunt Sammie was a devoted Christian, a loving wife and wonderful mother but it was not his focus. We sang some hymns with the parlor piano, had a final prayer and then carried the casket out the front door, down the steps and climbed the hill with it to the nearby cemetery for the burial. I remember holding the wooden screen door open for the pallbearers.

What struck this city boy was how close the circle of life and death were that day. Aunt Sammie was not born in that house but some of my cousins probably were. To sit on the porch each morning, drink your coffee and look at the place that one day you will be buried, maybe sooner than you think, must have been a sobering and centering experience. It reminds me of Psalm 90:12 “So teach us to number our days so that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” She and my uncle Elvin worked hard to raise their four children on that dairy farm, before corporate America made that nearly impossible. They lived simple, faithful lives in the face of the forces of nature and a rapidly changing world.

They left a beautiful legacy to our family in the form of that family cemetery, free of charge, in one of the most beautiful areas of rolling pastures, woodlands and lakes in this state. We are grateful and blessed to have that peaceful setting as the final resting place for our loved one. So, even though we may not live within sight of our final resting place, may we remember that life on earth is short and our decision to trust Jesus Christ is what really matters.

(Steve Berger is pastor of First Methodist Church Minden, a Global Methodist Church. He is the husband of Dianne, his partner in ministry, they have two adult sons, a dachshund, and love living in Minden.)