You might think I’m unusual, but I truly enjoy visiting graveyards. They aren’t spooky at all; instead, they offer a glimpse into the past and the lives that shaped us. Beneath the earth lie countless stories of triumph and defeat, joy and sadness.
In a small town in Tennessee, most of my family is buried close together. When I visit the cemetery, I remember stories that warm my soul and bring me comfort. The names scattered across the landscape are familiar to me, and I often wish I had asked more about each one when they were alive.
In August of last year, I had the wonderful opportunity to visit Ireland. As someone passionate about genealogy, I discovered that one of my ancestors served as the rector of a church near Belfast in the 1600s. Located in a small hamlet called Castlecaulfield in County Tyrone, St. Michael’s Church sits atop a small hill, surrounded by the graves of those who once belonged to this Protestant congregation.
Reverend George Walker and his wife, Isabella, are buried inside the church. This may sound strange, so I will explain. Reverend George became the Governor of Londonderry, Ireland. He was killed in July 1690 during the Battle of the Boyne while assisting the Duke of Schomberg, who was the commander-in-chief of all the Williamite forces in Ireland. Because he was regarded as a hero and a leader, the church honored the Walkers’ remains by interring them within its walls when it was restored years later.
I wasn’t sure about the connection between George, Isabella, and my family, but I felt a strong spiritual urge to visit St. Michael’s. My husband and many of my friends thought it was a bit silly, but I firmly stood my ground, just like my grandmother used to, and insisted I was going to County Tyrone.
Rain poured as we drove from Belfast to Castlecaulfield, about an hour away. Our driver was a woman who resembled my Walker cousins. We talked throughout the journey as Marion shared stories about Northern Ireland and the underlying turmoil that still simmers beneath an eerie calm, especially in Belfast. The Battle of the Boyne is commemorated every year on July 12 amid some remaining controversy.
Marion, a devout Catholic, had never been inside a Protestant church until we pulled into St. Michael’s parking lot. The groundskeeper was to meet us to unlock the doors. Because he was a little late, we opened our umbrellas and walked around the premises dotted with tombstones.
As my eyes scanned the area, I recognized countless names. Names that originally appeared in England and Scotland were now etched in marble in Northern Ireland. I believe divine planning guides us, making life feel purposeful and reassuring that we are part of something greater.
When I saw the name “Kerr” carved in granite, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. My dear friend is a Kerr who lives next door. Additionally, I know that the Walkers and Kerrs are buried side by side behind a small Presbyterian church in Tennessee that dates back to the 1700s. These connections highlight how intertwined our family histories truly are.
Other names engraved on the monuments in Ireland are the same as those that dot the cemetery where my family eternally rests. Coincidence? I don’t think so.
Once the groundskeeper arrived, we walked through a small door into a light-filled church adorned with stained-glass windows. The largest window was dedicated to Reverend George, and sure enough, there is a prominent plaque on the wall marking his and Isabella’s resting place.
“Where in America did your Walker family settle ?” the friendly groundskeeper asked. I replied, “Tennessee.”
He quickly responded, smiling, “Did you know that Davy Crockett’s family once lived just a mile down the road from here?” Tears filled my eyes as I realized that some of Crockett’s relatives had settled in the same small mountain town where I was born.
History is personal. We each have one filled with heroes, black sheep, and quirky individuals. But there is something not only mystical but sacred regarding those who came before us. Those we meet and those we encounter are interconnected by a divine power that only God can yield.
“Lynn, thank you so much for including me today. It was a beautiful and eye-opening experience,” Marion, our new friend, declared as we were leaving. For just a moment, the past, conflicts, and oceans faded away beneath the cross at the center of a church on an Irish hill. Coincidence? I don’t think so.
No, graveyards are not spooky; sometimes they are keys unlocking a treasure trove of gratitude.
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Lynn Walker Gendusa began her writing career as a columnist for the LaGrange News. Today, her essays are featured regularly throughout Georgia and Tennessee. Her work also appears in Guidepost, USA Today, The Atlanta Journal, MSN.com, among others. Lynn has authored two books; the latest, “Southern Comfort,” was published in 2022. She can be reached at www.lynngendusa.com. For more of her inspirational stories, click here.
