Thursday morning I woke around 7AM and decided to go for a walk to the upper part of the city. I took my camera and headed out in 5 degree weather. It was cold. I got about a block away from the hotel and realized that I didn’t have a stitch of identification on me. Not wanting to turn back, I decided I would be REALLY careful. I walked up cobblestone streets that passed on the side of The University of Tartu. There were random people chopping ice out of the entryways of the buildings that lined the street. At the top of the hill I found pathways that overlooked the city.

The air was frigid, but there was no wind so it was tolerable, other than taking gloves off to snap a picture.

The path wandered by many monuments to famous people. I didn’t recognize any of them, and yet it was obvious that their memory was being maintained. It provided a sharp contrast to my visit of the KGB museum on Wednesday where thousands died in relative obscurity.

I struggle with the meaning of life. Why is it that some lives appear to be valued for their achievements, while other lives are crushed out without any memorial of their own? If they are remembered at all by the public. it is memorialized with a picture or a journal entry on the shelf of a museum.

In the book “The Sparrow” by Mary Doria Russell, the author quotes the passage in Matthew 10:29. It says “Not a sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.” The author makes the point that people who value the Bible’s words have found comfort in the knowledge that God see us. But as the author points out, the sparrow still dies.

Whether we die as a person of note or in complete obscurity, the Father sees. The Father maintains a memorial for each of us. We are not forgotten, and we wait for the day where we can perceive with our whole being that we are truly known by our creator, sustainer and maintainer of our own personal memorial.

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