For Easter weekend this year, we drove down to the Borders to stay with old friends and participate in their Easter morning sunrise hill climb and open air service. I spent ten years of my life in the that part of Scotland, from eight to eighteen – formative years indeed. The road over the Lammermuirs from Edinburgh is so familiar to me, I still know every twist and turn and exactly the right speed I need to go to get up each hill without changing gear. It was strange to see our old house in that landscape of low hills and sheep, only the trees we planted grown so high to mark the passing years. It stands across a field from the church, to which my parents devoted many years of their lives and where we buried them, side by side but almost twenty years apart.
I have been contemplating how and what to order as a memorial to mark Dad’s grave and suitably remember his life. I love the look of hand carved lettering on stone and love wandering through old graveyards and reading the inscriptions. Searching the web, I found this beautiful example. Funnily enough the inscription would have suited my father perfectly. It reads:
Whose greatest desire was that all should understand, that Christ abolished death and brought life and immorality to light through the gospel, and whose highest privilege was to be able to say and of this gospel I was appointed a teacher.
I think that is a paraphrase of 1Timothy 1:11. I know that Dad, characterised by faith and humility, would have liked this. I am still pondering what we can do and in the meantime, filling a pinterest board with grave stones I like (Gruesome? Not at all). Its going to take a while, but I’ll update you when we finally come to a decision.