Personal Petroglyphs

Saturday morning, when we woke up, there was a dead man on our street.  My neighbor drove by it, and called to tell me – turns out he was beaten to death.  They have no idea who he is, or why he was left on our street.

Having gone most of my adult life having limited firsthand experience with death, some days it seems like it has been heaping on this year.  Phil’s dad, my coworker Bob, my friend Terri’s father Bob, my friend Lisa’s sweet new baby boy, and now the dead man on our street. 

Most of the time, I look at it as a reminder of how short our time here is.  A reminder that every moment is precious, every moment worth living all the way.  Today at the grocery store, an older man next to me had what I think must have been a stroke, and as I was trying to talk to him, and getting him a chair to sit in, and asking the store to call 911 for him, it was again a reminder.  He woke up this morning, and was probably excited to get out of the house and go to the store with his list – the same hopeful list he was clutching as he looked at me, completely unable to tell me anything.  What would he have told me?  Was he glad he had one more trip to the store?  One more beautiful October morning to be out of the house, breathing the sweet, sweet air, before he didn’t have a choice in it anymore?  I don’t know.

Some days, I think there must be a hell of a band of brothers in heaven – that there is some big battle coming that these men of earth are being called up for.  Good, strong men that are just needed somewhere else right now.  That we should be glad to give them, really.  (I don’t usually convince myself on the last part).  They gave us life, love, learning, an inheritance, moral character – we were lucky to have them as long as we did.

This afternoon, my Dad took me out to the petroglyphs at picture rocks, on the west side of Tucson.  We walked out, and looked at the work of other men – men from hundreds of years ago who had a message to leave.  A message they chipped in the rocks in the form of men, animals, and mysterious symbols.  I don’t know what they were telling the men of their time who came to their rocks, but I know what they told me. 

We all move through.  We all go on.  We all leave something behind that will endure. 

It is of small comfort.   

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2 Responses to Personal Petroglyphs

  1. Jacki says:

    Holy crap!

  2. Phil says:

    I am so glad you started this blog to share your thoughts of the day. Death does seem to be overwhelming us this year. Overwhelming sometimes approaching dispair. But I know our solice is in the Lord. I hope and pray that each of us will remember the importance of knowing Christ. May He provide you the peace that passes all understanding. Love you.

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