Wow!!!

This is from one of the other church's bulletins on island:

ON LEMON AVENUE

A homeless woman in Dallas used to pan-handle on the overpass of Lemon and the North-Central Expressway. She'd hold up her make-shift sign, smiling and waving at passing cars. She usually looked - believe it or not - happy. Sometimes her hair would be in pigtails, and occasionally she'd wear a clever hat or t-shirt. She'd always be smiling - her toothless smile. She'd wave her incredibly skinny arms with an even playful flair at times.
But those who were from our neighborhood knew the rest of the story. We saw her in the drug-store, worn and weary from spending her entire day on the bridge. We saw her becoming increasingly gaunt and skeleton-like. We saw her digging for leftovers behind restaurants. And we all knew where she lived - among the headstones and sepulchers in the cemetery along Lemon Ave.
Many from our neighborhood would bring her coffee on their way to work, or a sandwich on their lunch break. I even once saw a motorist hand her a coat one cold evening. But for all the kindnesses, smiles, waves, and good will, she would leave the bridge to return to her makeshift home among the decay and emptiness that defined the cemetery and her life. The month before we left Dallas for Hawaii, the news was spread through the neighborhood - she died that winter.
What that woman did each day, putting on a brave smile for passersby, is really no different from what most of humanity does. Living lives with no hope, no real home, no purpose, and no promise, the world often puts on a brave smile - smiling when there's no real reason to smile. Happy for a fleeting moment, we have taken the gifts that the world offers, always knowing that emptiness, sorrow, and hopelessness was our lot in life - that when it's all said and done, the cemetery is our home.
But because of the body and the blood broken for us, we lean that the cemetery is not our eternal home. We're not asked to pretend to be happy, knowing that our lives are destined for the grave. Rather we are given the opportunity to know real joy. We endure through tragedy and heartache not because we've learned to pretend our way to happiness - but because we've real hope. The cemetery is not our home - there's a place on the other side that Christ has prepared for us. And by His sacrifice and resurrection, we have the hope and assurance of enjoying that home forever.
Written by: Scott Self