“Where are you buried?” This question came to me after I wrote that my new ebook was buried on my website. I was being rather ironic, but the question begs to be answered by us all.
There are many deaths that we undergo metaphorically, but there are also places where we are buried alive.
I am buried inside all of the emotions that I deny.
I am buried alive in my books on amazon.
I am buried in thoughts of feeling unloved and unappreciated.
Where are you buried?
Some of are buried in thoughts that shame and humiliate them.
Some are entombed in guilt or rage.
We all are busy burying the bodies of perfectly good people called by our name.
Now is the time to ask yourself this. Do I believe in the resurrection of the dead?
And if so, does anyone know that I am dead? That might be the better question.
Here comes another shock. I was at the eye doctor on Monday and everyone in the waiting room was buried in their cell phones, despite the fact that large signs said to turn them off.
Maybe this essay is not about “Lazarus, come forth!” but about you and me.
I am a widow, an orphan and a bereaved parent. Talk about being invisible!
Do you read my blog or my occasional Facebook Notes? I have written over 2,500 of them.
I sit here uncovering my tomb shovel by shovel so that I can live again, can breathe fresh air.
Where are you buried?
Vicki Woodyard