Living Cemetery

The day after the roof top experience, I joined the group for a hike. We ended up in a dainty uninhabited village with a tiny graveyard. I meandered past the few tombstones and discovered that this was the burial place of some of the persecuted French protestants during Louis XIV's anti-protestantism purge. I found a mother and her son buried next to each other, the mother's tombstone embellished with "Dieu est amour" (God is love) while her son's "l'Eternel est mon berger" (the Lord is my shepherd). I passed two other tombstones and found buried side-by-side Monsieur and Madame de Cazenove (most likely related to the still-living Monsieur de Cazenove) also with their favorite verses neatly engrained in the marble. 

I've always been afraid of cemeteries, where dead bodies decay under fertile soil. Yet, as I wandered past the tombstones of these children of God, the peace I felt literally transcended understanding. I was reacting so contrary to nature that I was confused. 

Later on, though, I realized the tangible verity of eternal life. I had felt such comforting peace because I had, in fact, been walking among the living.