I just turned on the computer to see what weather I had to dress for.  We will pray at the abortion mill this morning and one needs to be prepared.   I noted a “Ta-Da!” in my Google reader and wondered what someone was ta-da-ing about.  It was a fellow muser, at Musings of a Housewife and the ta-da was about her Christmas tree – up and beautiful and it’s still November!   Well, OK.

I noted to the right of the tree a blog title “At the Foot of His Grave, I Sat Down and Cried.”  Intrigued, I clicked it.  It seems our housewife’s father died over a year ago and she had not attended the funeral – she explains why.  But now she has the opportunity to visit his grave at the Florida National Cemetery.    She finds the grave, does not know what she feels or should feel. She holds her baby and kneels before the gravestone:

I took her, and kneeled in front of the stone. I looked at the words, ‘Beloved Father and Grandfather.’

‘Dad,’ I said, ‘This is Cassidy.’

And I started to cry.

And I started to cry.

So here it is, still dark, before breakfast, and I am crying.  But crying not only for Cassidy’s grief (until this moment I had not know our Musing Housewife’s name was Cassidy) but for the outpouring in the comments that followed.   They are all short, beginning with “Oh my friend”  and “I’m so sorry” and sending love and hugs.

It is still dark and I haven’t had my breakfast and I am marveling at the connectedness of humankind in this impersonal cybersphere.

Surely it is a marvelous world and we are wonderfully made and mysteriously linked.


Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.   Romans 12:15