The Mausoleum

We didn't have a yard when I was a girl, since we lived in a hotel, so my family often explored the surrounding countryside on Sunday afternoons, year-round.  When the weather was cold, we drove all over the county, and sometimes into the next county, traversing numerous two tracks and gravel roads.  It wasn't unusual for us to get stuck in the mud or snow when we ventured off the beaten path, so some of us would have to get out to push, while Dad steered the station wagon safely to dryer ground.  In the winter, we usually ended up stopping for supper at a cafe or bar in one of the tiny towns scattered around the county.  It seems to be an unwritten rule that the most out-of-the-way, run-down dives make the juiciest hamburgers.

Whenever the temperature rose above freezing, we usually got out to walk.  Sometimes, Dad carried a gun, so he could hunt ducks, or squirrels, or whatever was in season, while the rest of us walked along.  Sometimes, we looked for old glass bottles in old farm dumps, or in the rafters of abandoned barns, to add to Mom's bottle collection.  Once in a while, Dad got permission for us to go fishing in someone's farm pond, or we went fishing in one of many nearby lakes or reservoirs.  Often, we took along a picnic lunch, which we spread out on a blanket on the ground.

When we were new in town, people suggested nearby places for us to visit, and several landowners gave us permission to hike on their property.  Mom and Dad were both fascinated with history, so we drove by (and sometimes stopped to explore) old limestone houses, Indian campsites, and the lime kiln west of Fairbury. 

We were all excited to visit the mausoleum for the first time.  It was located on private property south of Fairbury.  I remember hiking in several times, quite a ways away from the road, to see the oddity.  We often met other hikers, and horseback riders, too, because it was a beautiful, shady place to spend a warm afternoon.

It would have been an awe-inspiring place for an Easter sunrise service, because the mausoleum was just an empty, unused tomb.  The original landowner had carved the tomb into the side of a sandstone hill, hoping to be buried in it himself, when the time came.  However, the laws of the time would not allow for him to be buried there, so the tomb remained empty.

The word, "Mausoleum," was carved above the seven-foot tall, arched doorway--hence, its name.  We entered hesitantly the first time, not sure what we would find in that cool, dim interior. There wasn't much to see, really.  The ceiling in both interior rooms was high enough so that anyone could stand upright inside.  The first room had a cross incised into the ceiling.  Two smooth, wide shelves had been carved inside the second room, one on each side of the doorway, ready to provide a final resting place for someone's worn out, casket-encased body.

I imagine that the mausoleum was much like the tomb that Jesus was buried in.  It, too, was an unused tomb, carved into the side of a hill.  But, when Jesus was buried, his tomb was sealed with a large rock that was rolled in front of the door.  As far as I know, the mausoleum has never had a door of any kind.  I wonder what the builder had in mind.  Did he, too, plan to use a rock to seal the tomb, or was he planning to construct a wooden door?  We may never know, and it certainly doesn't matter now, one way or the other.

It's been many decades since the mausoleum was built, and many centuries since Jesus' crucified body was laid on a slab in a similar tomb.  The mausoleum remains empty.  So does Jesus' tomb, but for an entirely different reason:  "He is not here.  He is risen!"  How blessed we are!

Thanks to my high school classmate, Tim Melander, who recently re-visited the mausoleum and posted pictures on Facebook.  I had been planning to write a blog about the mausoleum, so his timely photos are greatly appreciated.