The Graveyard

The Graveyard

I walked in the graveyard under a filmy moon. The spirits had risen from their tombs and floated uneasily in the night air.

“Who are you?” I asked one that hovered over a stone cross.

“I am Delight,” it answered.

“And you?” I asked another.

“Joy,” it replied.

As I looked upon the restless spirits they began to spontaneously name themselves:

“Contentment, Simplicity, Selflessness, Honesty, Hope, Trust . . .”

Below each, a corpse lay buried and decayed in the earth. Never having been released, their spirits haunted the unhappy past.

“What can be done?” I asked, seeing my name above the cemetery gate.

“Have you never heard of Christ?” they asked. “He who resurrects the dead must descend into hell to rescue them.”

I recalled the Savior’s words:

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

For hours we communed together, I and the spirits of childhood. Then dawn began to edge the horizon.

“Now I know where you lie,” I said to them. “You shall be remembered and mourned.”

A sigh of gratitude passed through the gathered ghosts.

“And in God’s time,” I promised, “the Messiah shall come.”