My parents, husband and I took an adventure yesterday. We took a road trip to visit some old gravesites and places where my grandpa grew up and where some of our distant relatives resided. It was a walk-through history to see the places of my ancestors. As we drove around in the area of where they used to live; though I could not visit them, it was like greeting a part of my heritage. Though as I walked along the many gravestones, I glanced upon the many names of people from long ago. Like my own ancestors that I was learning and discovering; I could not help but to wonder about all the names that surrounded me. For every name inscribed along these concrete stones, were more than a name. They were people with their own stories and they all mattered. I began to feel a rush of compassion run through me, and I thought about their stories. There was one stoned inscribed about a beloved wife and instead of just writing the day in which she had passed, it literally wrote out about how many years old she was when she passed; from the year, to the month, to the day. The way in which it was written, was evident that her husband grieved her passing. Many wrote about beloved loved ones, even children. Some had families all resting together, as their family name was lined up, one by one beside each other.  Some shared stones, for even in death they did not want to separate. There were some that stood alone. Though every one of these people in which had passed, had a story and mattered to someone; just like the stones in which I myself came to visit. Friend, it got me thinking about how deeply God knows us and our stories. How He cares and loves all of us. Often, we are caught up in our own stories, we have little room to hear another’s. Though God, He cares about all of our stories and He is with us through them all. So maybe not everybody knows us and where we come from, who we are, the lives we live; but God always cares and He knows us completely. As I walked pass these stones with many names and many dates engraved; I thought about these strangers. I may not ever know their story, but that does not mean they do not matter. For all these lives that lived mattered. God knew them all, just like He knows us all. Friend, I learned something about my heritage today and where my ancestors came from; though, what I am now reminded of most is all the value of human life. How everyone here mattered to someone; most of all God. May we treat others with kindness and love while there is still breath in their lungs, in our lungs. May we show others love and share with them God’s love. Friend, I took a road trip to visit my heritage and in that process was reminded of the sanctity of every human life.

Erin Fitts-Brower

John 15:12 NIV

My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.