Not too long ago, on our way back from a wedding in Montreal, we decided to do the unusual thing and get off the fastest, most boring way from point A to point B, and slow down a bit and enjoy the journey. More often than not, the opportunity to enjoy the journey is snatched away because of the incessant urgency to arrive at point B. But once in a while, life trumps everything else, particularly when it is just me and Sheewee in the car together.
So, after we had left Montreal and travelled past Cornwall, we jumped off the 401 and made our way over to historic Highway 2, which follows the shores of the St. Lawrence Seaway and Lake Ontario. Not long after getting onto Highway 2, we saw a sign for Upper Canada Village. Now I have heard about Upper Canada Village all my life, but I’ve never been to it. In fact, I didn’t even know where it was, so the discovery was one of the surprises you encounter when you make it a point to enjoy the journey.
We stopped for a while to look around. Just outside of the village is an outdoor area surrounded by walls bearing the name, “Pioneer Memorial” (see the photo). As I walked into the area, I saw that the interior of the walls were embedded with old tombstones. Old tombstones and I get along REAL well. So I spent a few minutes going through the memorial. Each wall had a different cemetery name on it and most of the gravestones went from the late 1700’s to the 1860’s and beyond.
I wondered why all these tombstones had found their way into the walls of this memorial. After a bit of research, I found out that in the 1950’s there was a building project to improve the St. Lawrence Seaway which included flooding an area that would submerge eight different villages. They are now called, “the Lost Villages.” Prior to flooding, most of the people were relocated to the new planned communities of Long Sault and Ingleside, so the gravestones embedded in the walls of this memorial were some of the more prominent names from those lost villages.
It was strange to think that all of these tombstones were moved out of communities, out of the places where people lived and died, because they are now under the waters of the St. Lawrence. Still I am thankful some of them were rescued as a testimony to these village and the people who lived, loved, worked, played, struggled and died in them. As I stood there looking at all these stones I couldn’t help but think that even death is temporary and it can and will be disturbed. Paul tells us as much: “In a flash, in the twinkling of an eye . . . the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.” (1 Corinthians 15:52). Now that’s the ultimate relocation!
As I read the names and the details on the stones, a pattern started to emerge. I noticed that those who died in the 1860’s, or earlier, had an unusual detail on their stones. Like the stone I have included as an inset in the photo (click on the photo to enlarge it), Mary Eleanor, we are told, not only died on January 17, 1859, she also lived to be 36 years, 11 months, and 1 day. Time and time again I saw this same pattern of not only marking the date of someone’s death, but also marking precisely, the years, months and days that someone lived.
Today we just mark the year of birth and the year of death. We reference point A and point B, but back then it was common to focus on the life rather than the birth. Not a month or a day was missed in recording how precious was the life being honoured.
Think about how much more money it would have cost a family, who most likely were struggling financially, to add the phrase “and 1 day” to Mary’s stone. What is 1 day? What does one day matter? Why waste money when you pay by the letter?
The only answer I can come up with is that life was such a challenge and such an adventure to those who first came to the land as pioneers that even one day was worth noting and celebrating. Clearly life was treasured as a precious commodity and each day a loved one lived mattered.
Something tells me that Mary Eleanor, who lived 36 years, 11 months and 1 day, probably had a much more difficult journey than most of us do today, but it also seems to me that she probably had a greater appreciation for the joy in the journey. I imagine that she probably concentrated more on the journey of a day then a journey of a lifetime. Her goals were likely much more simple and practical and lived much more in the moment. It may even be that she experienced more in her 36 years, 11 months, and 1 day than most of us do today–even if we live to be a hundred!
As I write this I am on the second day of my holidays. I still have the better part of a few weeks left and thus far I have not started to think about all the stuff I have to do when I get back. At present I am just thinking of all the stuff I have to do before Sheila gets home!
Now, I can’t guarantee those thoughts won’t kick in somewhere in the last week of my vacation, but I am going to do all I can to live each day of my holidays with a sense of gratitude and adventure. Life is too precious to live it on the expressways. No one every meets God on the expressways, at least in a good way! I’d much rather spend time with Jesus, learning from Him, growing in Him and serving Him on the scenic route: where life is really lived and where lives blend and intertwine so that even one day together needs to be remembered and recorded for all to see.
