“Why do you seek the living among the dead?” Luke 24 The Cemetery Rd house, is nestled two drives away from a cemetery, not a pet Sematary. This story is nothing at all like Stephen Kings, though I totally adore the play on words; not because I enjoy his genre but rather admire his skill of the craft…which is totally irrelevant but the fact is I find great joy in running the hills of the little cemetery and I admire Stephen King’s gift of writing. Which may sound offensive at first, though I pray it is not, it brings me life because once upon a sad season which these do ebb and flow for me, once upon a bad day I laced up longing to run away from whatever shadows were lurking my mind at the time, and I saw the sunrise there. I saw the shadows bend and I felt the breathe go in and out and I felt the darkness inside give way to the reality of my situation. The truth of the choice I faced that I could waste away all the goodness of my children’s days, my husbands tender efforts at loving me, and my fleeting moments of life or I could join my Maker at the table of life, receive His blessing, and enjoy the bread of His present riseness. I could swallow the gift of neuroscience and the pill shaped crucible of my morning regimen and diligently do the work of putting one foot in front of the other so as to not be overcome by changes in light exposure, as my brain tends to not take kindly to literal season changes. So…I run there some days in good moods or bad ones and I know one day I will follow the wind. In the meanwhile faith and breathe and hope in the beautiful story of Jesus keeps giving me eyes to see new life. And when my story ends I know what love has crafted in my life will keep going on, in the stories of my own children and hopefully others. Tim’s artistic expression is found in remodeling our home these days. Though not always literally we hold hands through this process of reconstruction in life. And I can not believe I get to do this life with him. I can’t believe there’s such a man that is willing to faithfully make messes and help clean them up with me and all I can say is Wow! And Thank You!! (Props to another author for those simplistic explanations) and some days Help!!! But I get to be alive and learning to love with this beautiful mess of a man. And I’m humbled because our days are but vapors, yet I hope and know that our marks are left here for better or worse. I run sometimes in the cemetery to watch the sun bend the shadows on the graves and I find new life.