Welcome to Memorial Day Weekend, a time Americans set aside to remember those who gave the ultimate sacrifice as they fought for their country.

As time has passed, this day has also been known as ‘Decoration Day,’ a time when many visit cemeteries, clean headstones, replace worn-looking flowers, and remember those who have gone on home to be with the Lord.

Years ago, when my Grandma Hall was alive, we decided to visit the cemetery where her brother was buried.  He was a soldier who was killed during the invasion of Pearl Harbor, when his assigned ship was bombed as they left the harbor after the Japanese attack.  Over the years, we never really talked (grandma and me) about THAT particular day, but instead, we talked about HOW MUCH she loved her older brother.

Grandma would tell stories how her older brother would return to their country, Kentucky home to bring his younger siblings candy, a hot commodity during the 1940s.  Grandma’s eyes would ‘light up’ when she spoke of her older brother.

When she was in her eighties, grandma moved into my mother’s home, and together, they made a life, two widows residing side-by-side. One particular sunny day, when we traveled to Mill Springs Cemetery in Nancy, Kentucky, the car was filled with girls.  By that point, my grandma was experiencing difficulty walking, so as I pulled the vehicle into the cemeteries outer loop driveway, I remember asking grandma:  “Do you remember where your brother was buried?”

If you have ever visited a military cemetery, then you are aware that ALL of the STONES are carved exactly the same and laid out in a particular pattern.  Truly, it is a beautiful sight to see!

That day, when I asked, grandma’s eyes misted with tears as she began to speak about the LAST TIME she came to the cemetery.

You see, the LAST TIME was the SAME DAY the mortuary staff laid to rest her brother’s remains—in 1941.  So many years had transpired since the day a much-younger version of Mae Hall had stood in that very place.

“Honey, I don’t remember at all where his burial plot is located.  It was so long ago.”

As I slowly circled the outer loop of the military cemetery, I spotted a registry stand, one that contained a notebook of names—a record of every man & woman who was buried in the cemetery.  So, as I parked my vehicle on that summer day, my grandma watched me out the front passenger seat window and my mom watched me from the back seat window.  First, I opened the plexiglass door to retrieve the notebook, gently laying it on top of the stand.  Then I opened the book, seeing how all the names were arranged in alphabetical order.  Beside each name was a capital letter, marking the section of the cemetery where the body and headstone could be found.  I slowly and reverently turned the pages to the ‘G’ listing and then scanned down until I encountered his first and last name—that of grandma’s deceased brother.  Miraculously, the headstone was situated directly in front of where I was standing, a mere five or six rows forward.

Glancing one last time at the listing in the book to memorize the place, I then returned the book to the registry stand and turned to go over to my vehicle.

Grandma rolled down her window, and I said, “We are close, Grandma.  Do you want to get out and let me help you walk over to the headstone?”

“No, honey, I’ll stay right here with your mom while you go stand near Laurence’s stone.”

Looking at my mom, I turned and walked directly toward the place where I just stood looking up the name: walking past the stand, walking across the grass, careful to step between the stones.  After just a couple minutes, I spotted his headstone, that of my grandma’s beloved brother.  Turning back toward them, I stood directly next to the white headstone where his name, military branch, and dates were carved.

I saw my grandma weeping into her handkerchief as she watched me stand where she once stood years earlier, as they laid her brother to rest. Later, once I returned to the vehicle, she re-told the story of that day in 1941, when she was much younger. Today marked her first return to the cemetery where she could pay tribute to her brother’s sacrifice & to their love.

In the 18^th Century, the Christian missionary Nikolaus von Zinzendorf said:  “Preach the gospel, die, and be forgotten,” knowing the Gospel seeds we sow for Jesus will help bring His harvest.

There is another statement that rings with a similar truth:  “Plant a tree that you will never sit under” because we do not sow seeds so others will focus upon us but upon our Lord Jesus Christ.

Many times, we work & work & work, hoping to leave a legacy in this old world, working to leave ‘material things’ for our children.  You know, those things “where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.”

Jesus Christ, the Messiah, cautioned us to not do this.

• Are we listening to our Savior’s wisdom?
• Are we striving, working hard to leave an earthly inheritance—OR—
• Are we striving, spreading the gospel message, serving the Lord, leaving a spiritual legacy?

On that particular sunny day, after I stood near my great-uncle’s tombstone (my grandma’s brother’s headstone), I recall looking out to my left and right, seeing all the individuals who gave the ultimate sacrifice for my freedom.  Truly, it was overwhelming!

After a span of time, I walked back and climbed into the driver’s seat, but did not start the vehicle.  I will never forget Grandma Hall’s words she spoke as mom and me sat there in silence, while the gentle breeze blew in through the vehicle window.

“That day, when we buried my brother, we only had a small box of items to bury.  They never recovered his body from the Pacific Sea, but they were able to recover some of his personal effects.   So we buried that small brown box there in the ground where you stood.  I’ll never forget how I felt that day in 1941. I was so sad that my brother was gone.”

Today, years later, I am so thankful that I come from a Christian family, one who passes down the importance leaving a spiritual legacy.  Over and over, I have heard the Gospel spoken in the homes of my family members.

“Yes, God, thank You for choosing to place me in a family of believers, in a Christian home.”

There are so many who have gone on home to heaven ahead of me, members of my Grandma’s family:

• her brother,
• her parents,
• some of her other siblings,
• her husband,
• her baby girl,
• her teenage son,
• her son-in-law (my dad), and
• even Grandma Hall, herself.

So many souls gone; so many to remember on this upcoming ‘Decoration Day.’  I wonder if every single one of those who have died knew the Lord as their Savior.  Many I know (like my dad, like my Grandpa Hall), the answer is “yes,” but unfortunately, some died before I could ask.

My girls know that my funeral wishes are written in the front of my Bible, but each year since my 50^th birthday, my Bible has changed, as I have gifted myself with a brand-new Bible to read.  I decided years ago to begin recording in the margins of the Scripture what the Lord was teaching me during that particular year.  My Last Will & Testament also speaks of my wish for my girls to each have one of my Bibles.  My niece Taylor has already received hers.

Within each new Bible that I purchase and study, my funeral plans change, going from a full page of wishes, but becoming shorter as the years pass.  As I write, I find myself turning to the inside cover, to read my funeral wishes—

• Please play a recording of a bagpipe, playing the melody “Amazing Grace.”
• Please place on my tombstone these words:  “I spent my life pouring my love into my students, sharing Jesus the best I knew how.”
• However, maybe I need a bench rather than a headstone because my family teases me often that there are so many funny stories they will re-tell, of silly things I am known to have said and done.

As my eyes read down the inside cover of my current Bible, I find these words—

“Please do not be sad for me when I die, for I am in heaven.  Please.  Please, follow me there.  When I stand before God, I hope that I stand empty-handed, knowing that I spent it all, using everything God gave me.”

Some may see this as morbid, but as a believer, as God’s child, I find these words so full of HOPE—the HOPE ONLY FOUND IN JESUS!

This year, I have contemplated gifting myself with MY BIRTHDAY BIBLE early, like now, Memorial Day, many weeks before my August birthday comes.

• Christian, God promises us resurrection when our faith is placed in Jesus.
• Brother-in-Christ, “Preach the gospel, die, and be forgotten.”
• Sister-in-Christ, “Preach the gospel, die, and be forgotten.”

Let us become totally serious in our faith-walk, in leaving our spiritual legacy, & in planting seeds of trees that we will never sit underneath, in planting the Gospel seeds our Savior gives us to sow every morning he allows us to arise from our night’s slumber.

In the Bible, the psalmist records just exactly what is precious to our LORD.