Hi, all. Just a thought to help start your weekend.

In the northwest corner of the state of Alabama, a passerby on U.S. Hwy. 72 might see the simple little green highway sign pointing in the direction of the “Coon Dog Cemetery.” If one ventured off the highway at that point and then traveled a few miles down the road, he would still need to travel even a few more miles off the beaten path to a spot on a hill in the middle of nowhere. There, just off to the right, nestled in the quiet solitude of the surrounding forest, marked by this particular sign, is the world’s only cemetery dedicated solely to the burials of coon hounds.

We were amazed at the very nice grave markers for some of those hunting dogs. Some even had the names of their owners included on the marker. Some were much simpler with only the dog’s name, and some were merely stones marking the spot of a beloved canine friend. But every burial in that cemetery is that of a coon dog. No other animals are allowed. No other dogs are allowed. Only coon dogs.

Sounds pretty strange, doesn’t it? Sounds pretty discriminatory and pretty segregated.

I know of another place that is similar in design. There are simple road signs pointing the way. One must leave the wide highway in order to head in the right direction. Then on down the path, the way grows even more narrow, perhaps even secluded at times. It winds through the peaceful woods and then makes its way up a glorious hillside. And right there, hidden in plain view, sits the spot that our Maker has prepared for His children. He calls it Heaven.

Heaven is pretty discriminatory and pretty segregated, because only a child of the King will be allowed inside the gate. Only those who belong to Jesus and know Him as Lord and Savior of their lives will be given residence there. Only the blood-bought, born again Christian has a place there. He designed it that way from the beginning. Not everyone will be there.  It’s a special place for those who belong.

I must tell you that we almost didn’t see the Coon Dog Cemetery, because we had gone much further than I thought we should have.  he road had gotten much sketchier than I thought it should be. I had just slowed to a stop in the road, about to give up, attempting a turn around, when I glanced just a little further up the road and saw something. I told my wife I would just head up that hill and see what it was, and then we’d head out.  And there we were. We had arrived.

Don’t give up. The drive gets long. The road gets narrow. The day gets shorter. But there, just up ahead, waiting just for you, is that glorious place.

He calls it Heaven. I call it Home.

Just a thought. ’Til later.

Brad Campbell can be reached at mastah.pastah@yahoo.com.