And should we die...

...before our journey's through, all is well. Happy day.

Today, we took a drive on Parley Street heading East. We kept driving on the narrow, country road until a sign caught our attention.

No one was there. The sky was blue. The air was warm and humid. The only sound was that of birds and cicadas. it was as though it was our turn to discover this place. The stones - most in disrepair were difficult to read. The grounds were natural in appearance. The long grass trimmed back, but not with a mowed look. It was as though someone had gone through with a scythe. With Memorial Day just passing this week, this was a reminder that the memories, heartaches and family ties that these early settlers had were no less close than those we have.

For some reason, I am frequently reminded of an epiphany that I had when I turned 56. You see, my father had me (although mom gets the credit) when he was 56 years old. On that birthday, I imagined having a baby at 56. It made me tired just thinking about it. My dad was a trooper. But then, something more powerful struck me. You see, my dad was born January 9, 1900. If you subtract my age at 56 from his birth-year, it is 1844. That is contmporary with many of these graves. Even more poignant is the fact that Joseph Smith was martyred in that year.

All-of-a-sudden, 1844 was not half as far away as it used to feel. It was within reach. These graves - death, were just a part of life. Many were children. Their journey brief but full of history. This was a different era, but still a part of God's plan.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.

The soul that rises with us, our life's star

Hath had elsewhere it's setting

and cometh from afar.

Not in entire forgetfulness

and not in utter nakedness

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God

Who is our home

William Wordsworth - 1804

To those that remain in this place here in Nauvoo, All is well.