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  • Writer's pictureGina Stinson


The last two and a half weeks have been a bit of a blur.

First, my parents arrived in town for an extended visit. I slow down a little when they make the trip to Texas, cherishing the time I get to spend with my mom and stepdad. But life through a wrench in our plans this visit.

During their stay, in proper Texas fashion, our weather decided to wreak havoc on our portion of the state. In just a little less than 24 hours we received 17 inches of rain. Flashbacks of Tropical Storm Imelda were on everyone’s mind. For nearly a week we watched as the rain continued off and on. The county placed our church on alert to open as a shelter should the water continue to rise.

Our internet was down. Our electricity flickered. Our yard was drenched. Our garden possibly ruined. But our house did not flood. Thank the Lord. Others were not spared.

My folks have returned safe and sound to Georgia. We made a mad dash to Bruce’s hometown for a family friend’s graduation ceremony and now are back home. And just like that life moves on.

As we traveled back home yesterday, we passed a cemetery. There sat a man in his lawn chair, looking over a grave. My heart hurt for him in just the 10 seconds it took for our car to pass by the cemetery. I am sure he was missing whomever was buried there—a wife, a child, a friend?

Life passes in a flash. The last couple of weeks went by in a blink. As I thought of the man sitting in the cemetery it made me hope that when my time comes, I hope people look for me in the places and spaces I loved—the home, the church, the dinner table, the yarn department at Hobby Lobby, the garden or my writing desk. The finality of the grave is not where I want to be remembered, but in the happiness and joy of everyday life. Life is passing quickly—where do you want others to remember you?

I Corinthians 15:55-57

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