Today found us doing what we always do on Memorial Day: driving to Chicago’s Rosehill Cemetery to visit the family graves. This year we only had 13 family members due to holiday work schedules and faraway family locales, but the day was important anyway.

Mary initiated a discussion of shared memories, one for each name on the tombstones beginning with the baby for whom the plot was initially purchased. He died in 1911 at only 20 months. Our sharing about little William was minimal since none of us had known him, but most of the others brought forth many memories.

Memorial Days of the past have often been somber or even difficult, but this one was punctuated with laughter. Funny stories abounded, and I can’t remember a more humorous celebration of those who had gone before. As always I loved hearing stories about Nate, and many shared.

Toward the end of our time together, Mary and Bervin’s son Karl voiced something we’d all been thinking. “Mom,” he said, “you didn’t think you’d be here today, did you?”

Mary had to admit he was right, but there she was, feeling well and looking good. It was cause for further rejoicing.

Later Mary and I had a long conversation about the day. “Was it difficult,” I said, “to be at the cemetery, now that cancer has entered your life? What were you thinking?”

“….that I’ve gotten good at taking one day at a time,” was her quick answer. “It’s the only way to handle this.”

She talked further, remarking how today’s cemetery trip prompted her to consider the spiritual legacy she’ll leave behind when she’s gone. “I don’t feel I’ve done enough,” she said. But before I could refute that, she continued. “I guess little becomes much when you put it in God’s hands.”

“You know,” she said, “only God knows how much longer I’ll live. When I think about Memorial Day a year from now, it seems very far away. But life is made for the living, and I’m going to do my best to live well on each of the days God gives me.”

She talked about the beauty of the cemetery and the dramatic greens of spring, how she hadn’t noticed the intensity of nature’s colors until cancer came.

“God has blessed me every day,” she said, “and has given me far more good days than bad ones. I intend to count my blessings and be grateful for each one.”

Folks with cancer have two choices: they can get mad or get glad. Mary has chosen to appreciate life more than ever, now that death has threatened. And that’s a mighty good legacy to leave.

“All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139:16)

Praising and Praying with Mary

1. Praise for a great weekend with kids, grandkids, and beautiful weather
2. Praise for a godly heritage
3. Pray against nausea after tomorrow’s chemo infusion