We pray for the souls of the faithful departed
We often pass another such cemetery when we go to Genoa. We actually don’t do too much traveling as a family. It is rare that our entire family is in the vehicle at the same time because of my husband’s complicated work schedule. One day we were all in the minivan driving by the cemetery south of Genoa AND I remembered to pray for those holy souls.
“What are you doing?” my husband asked, as I was going through an “Eternal Rest”.
“I’m praying for the souls in that cemetery,” I explained, with the pride of a Pharisee.
“What cemetery?” my husband and lifelong resident of our county asked.
“That cemetery right there,” I again beamed with that Pharisitical pride.
He started laughing. “That’s not a cemetery.”
“Yes it is.”
“No it isn’t. So&So used to own that land when I was a kid. He stored his propane tanks on those bricks.”
“You mean those aren’t grave stones?!” I questioned him.
“No, those are propane tank holders,” he repeated.
For years I had been praying for the propane tank holders, and not the souls of the faithful departed. Oops.
|Here are the propane tank holders on a cool November prairie day south of Genoa.|
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