This world is not my home, I'm just passing through.
My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue.
The angels beckon me from Heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore.
We pass by the local cemetary a lot, because it is just a couple blocks away. And yesterday, I saw something that got my attention. Several of the graves had little Christmas trees on them, along with flags, poinsettas, and other Christmas things. I was rather stunned at first. These images of sorrow, hope, and joy seemed to symbolize the entire spectrum of humanity's struggle, all in this small graveyard. The people who visited here were forever linked by learning to deal with their own haunting memories. They decorated the resting places of their loved ones as if for a party, but of course no one could come.
"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind conceived
what God has prepared for those who love him." 1 Cor. 2:9