What a Blue Cross and a Gray Stone Taught Me about Peace

Liberty Hill Church

Way back when I was a girl growing up in rural Alabama, I used to visit Papa and Grandmother Lindsey’s house a lot. They lived just through the cow pasture and up the hill from us–an easy walk.

Invariably, Papa would be on the phone, hashing it out with his insurance–Blue Cross and Blue Shield or Medicare or whomever–about a medical expense of some type. Other times, he struggled getting his riding mower to crank. Anything like that.

I think about this often because, you see, Papa died in 1993 or so. Whenever Lefty and I go through some trial or another like a broken refrigerator or a dying car, I think about Papa.

Papa is somewhere that he never has to worry about Blue Cross or broken vehicles again. I’m not sure if I’m making sense or not here, but that brings me a measure of peace. Not that I’m discounting anything that we go through during this life on earth. (At church yesterday, we did a lot of praying for people in south Texas facing the hurricane and flooding problems.)

I’m just saying that this puts it in perspective for me. And we don’t have to wait until the Afterlife to have that peace. We can take a deep breath and remember that problems like broken alternators won’t be problems forever.

For some (strange??) reason, I get the same sense of peace when I look at the grey tombstones in cemeteries. It’s all going to be okay.

Aunt Mattie and Uncle Bill’s tombstones.

By the way, the tombstone in the photo is for Aunt Mattie and Uncle Bill, two wonderful people who are buried in a little, rural cemetery outside of the little hamlet of Hackleburg, Alabama. I used to spend summers with my north Alabama grands, who lived on a big, shared family farm with Uncle Bill and Aunt Mattie. I look forward to seeing them again one day, too.

Proverbs 3:5-6 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and don’t lean to your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your path.”


Peaceful little cemetery.

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