On a whim, I stopped at the old cemetery in Salem last weekend. It sits on top of a round, grassy hill, its gray monuments outlined against blue sky and mountain ridges. Passing through the iron gate, I walked up the quiet path.

Annie Scott Wiley
Father in thy gracious keeping
Leave we now thy servant sleeping.

1784 – 1832

Born November 5, 1902
Died February 19, 1903

I thought of Hebrews 12: “Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus …”

The dead, even from their silent graves, urge us on. They call us to live vigorously, and run toward what will last through eternity.