Holy Ground

As I have written before, I am doing a bible study with some women at church on the book of Joshua. This week we read Joshua 2-5. The last verse in Joshua 5 (verse 15) struck me:

The commander of the Lord's army replied, "Take off your sandals. For the place where you are standing is holy." And Joshua did so.

A similar command is given to Moses when God appeared to him in the burning bush:

"Do not come any closer," God said. "Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground." - Exodus 3:5

Every Sunday, usually before church, Spencer and I visit Isaac at the cemetery. The beautiful white satin cross that my dad and stepmom brought him on the day of his burial service is still there. We've taken down the artificial poinsettia we had there during the Christmas season, and have been faithful to bring fresh flowers. With this weekend's snowfall, we didn't take any, and I was feeling guilty about that. But while we were there, I noticed the snow sticking to the bottom of my boots as we walked over to Isaac's grave. And clear as day this thought came to my mind: Build him a snowman, Stacy.

So I did. I didn't have a carrot for a nose or raisins for a mouth, but I did find some sticks for arms. I drew eyes, a nose, and a mouth instead. It was a little snowman, maybe 1-2 feet high, but it felt good to leave something there for Isaac, and it the midst of a snowstorm, a snowman seemed to fit better than fresh flowers anyway.

It was peaceful while we were there this past Sunday... I think the snow has a way of doing that. Sometimes, though, we've encountered others who have been in the cemetery during our visit who have greatly taken away from our time there.

A few times it has been joggers... joggers running by themselves who feel the need to just stare at us. Other times, it has been joggers running in pairs who are talking really, really loudly over their iPods in order to hear each other. Most recently, it was a man who appeared intoxicated, riding a bike, swerving all over the place, singing at the top of his lungs. And on every occasion, I have wanted to just scream: Where you are standing... this place... this cemetery... this is holy ground! My son is buried here. It is holy ground."

No, it's not the land of Canaan where Joshua is standing, nor the mountain of God where Moses was. But that cemetery... for us it is holy ground. We know Isaac isn't really there, but it is a place where we can go and feel like we're just a little bit closer to him. Tending to his grave site gives us a small opportunity to still parent him in some way. I wish that the random joggers talking over their iPods or the random guy on the bike knew that.

This week, a sweet friend, who I have never met in real life but would love to, is anticipating the one-year anniversary of her sons', Blake and Ethan, birth on March 5. Just a few short days later, she, her husband, and their daughter will mark the one-year anniversary of their death. You are welcome to visit Devon's blog here. Please lift them up in prayer, as I am sure this is to be a very difficult week for them.