As I Drove Home

As I drove home, I surveyed the land and sky. A cemetery with patriots and others. An orange sky. America’s colors unfurled with evening wind. I lifted my phone. Snapped a picture. Why? To remember. What exactly? That the men and women are now removed from here. That their lives here are now (perhaps?) reduced to a bromide or dates or relationships on a slab of gray concrete or marble.

One’s theology is crucial.

Teach me to number my days. One life. Make it count. For the truth.

When the sun goes down, and one perhaps reflects, the thought invariably comes: “How are you spending your days? Make them count.”

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