They looked like any other bunch of kids on their way to the store that Saturday morning. They were three girls and two boys, aged 7 to 11, and in their pockets was their allowance and birthday money. There was nothing external to set them apart from the other kids that were out and about, but these four cousins and a friend were on a mission. They were different because of what they had been through and because of what was in their hearts.
As they entered the store they didn’t head for the junk toy section or for the comic book section like most observers would have expected. They stopped at the flower section and each one chose a carnation and together they took the flowers to the florist so she could arrange them into a bouquet with some ferns and Baby’s Breath. As she arranged the flowers, the lady told them to choose a card.
“How much is a card? one asked.
“Oh, they’re free, they come with the flowers,” she replied.
They looked at each other and began to whisper over the selection of an appropriate card. Which one would fit the mission they were on? Cards were examined and rejected. None seemed to be right for the occasion. Finally one was found, that seen through their eyes of faith fit their mission.
They all signed the card, paid for the flowers and headed out for their final objective, leaving behind them a clerk who thought that they must be special to spend their money on some flowers without a parent standing behind them. They were special and just how special was about to be seen.
Their journey ended in a place where you don’t see many kids. A place that many would think was inappropriate for them to be. A place that one doesn’t normally associate with children. But they didn’t feel out of place, they had come to visit someone who was a sister, a cousin and a friend to them. Their destination? A cemetery. They placed the flowers on Kristin’s grave. She had died two months before, in the twelfth year of her life, and now her sister, cousins and a friend had come to tell her how much they loved and missed her.
Isaiah writes of a time when we will be led by a child. The preacher had used that passage at Kristin’s funeral when he spoke of the brave way she had faced her death. Later that day, we adults found five new teachers and understood Jesus’ admonition that we must become as children to enter his kingdom. As we visited Kristin’s grave we saw the flowers and little card that read, “Welcome to your new home.” It was signed by Brittany, Karie, Nathan, Shane and Cori.
Too young to be in a cemetery? They were old enough to understand that Kristin wasn’t in the grave, but was in a new home in heaven. The flowers were an expression of their hearts and souls to hers. They looked in faith beyond their sadness to her joy and peaceful rest in heaven. Yes, Kristin, welcome home.
- Steven G. Kay
