This is the third and final chapter of my story about a place called Rodney, Mississippi. If you missed the first two chapters, I suggest you read them before reading this one.
Chapter 1: A Place Called Rodney
Chapter 2: The Rise and Fall of the Rodney Presbyterian Church
Today, we're going to take a hike up the hill behind the Presbyterian Church to the Rodney Cemetery (notice I used the word hike, as opposed to walk).
The hill is very steep, the path, rough and heavily-rutted, but if you enjoy exploring old historic cemeteries, it is worth a little huffing and puffing along the way to see this one.
My husband has back problems and didn't attempt the climb, and as I reached the top of the hill I have to admit that it felt a little eerie to be alone in the cemetery, which was overgrown and desolate. It was a dreary day, too, which didn't help matters.
I can't think of a better word to describe what I saw than the word desolate, which Webster's defines as:
As I stood on the hilltop, taking it all in, I was saddened to see that such a beautiful and historical place had been abandoned and neglected, its gravestones literally crumbling and sinking into the ground, soon to be hidden forever ...
But, as I walked around and began taking pictures, I realized that, amongst the ruins and briars and brambles, there was also beauty and a quiet peacefulness underneath those old trees.
I loved the old iron fences which surrounded the family plots, some plain and simple ...
And some not so simple ...
I was disappointed that this manufacturer's plate didn't have a date on it ...
While carefully trying not to step on any of the graves, I went inside a few of the fences to get a closer look at some of the headstones and inscriptions. The oldest person I found in the area where I was, was a lady named Maggie Welch Burkley, who lived to be 92.
Here are a few more stones that caught my eye ...
"A precious one from us has gone,
A voice we loved is stilled.
A place is vacant in our home,
Which never can be filled."
This lady was born in Germany in 1820, and lived to be 81 years, 9 months, and 9 days old, according to the inscription on her headstone. Wouldn't you like to know what circumstances brought her to Rodney, Mississippi.
Here are a few more inscriptions I was able to decipher:
Sweet be thy rest beloved husband and father.
Angels guard thee until we meet to part no more."
"We will meet you, darling ... beyond the river."
From which none ever wake to weep."
This last inscription is my favorite (and was the hardest to decipher). As near as I can tell from the date, which is hard to read, the young woman died when she was 23.
"Sweetly she sleeps, the pure and gentle hearted,
Where no rude footsteps mar her tranquil rest.
Sweetly she sleeps, from sorrowing loved ones parted,
In happy trust on her Savior's breast."
Isn't that beautiful — that alone was worth the climb up the hill!
I spent about an hour roaming around the cemetery, but didn't venture too far into the overgrowth.
There are literally hundreds of graves scattered over the hilltop, most of them hidden amongst the palmettos and briars and wild Jonquils, and I would love to go back some day and visit each and every one of them. I can just picture the hill in the springtime, alive with thousands of colorful wildflowers and dogwoods and redbuds in full bloom. But, unfortunately, springtime also brings poison ivy, snakes, red bugs, and ticks ... so I guess I'll just be content that I was able to see it on that cloudy Saturday in January.
Even though it was disheartening to see the neglect, I'm glad I could capture some of the beauty of the cemetery during my brief visit. And as I started down the hill, I noticed that the dreariness of the day had lifted, giving way to patches of blue sky and billowy white clouds.
And waiting for me at the bottom of the hill was this cheerful little clump of Jonquils ...
And this cute little guy who was happily clamoring at my feet while I was taking a couple of shots of the church with the blue sky in the background ...
Though nothing can bring back the glory days of Rodney, I'd like to think that its story will have a happy ending.
I understand that The Rodney Center Historic District and the Rodney Presbyterian Church are listed on the National Register of Historic Places ... so, perhaps, there is still hope that someday funds will become available to restore what is left of Rodney. I just hope it won't be too late, and all that will remain is a paragraph or two in history books and a few sad, ramshackle old buildings fading away at the end of a dirt road in Jefferson County, Mississippi.
