Peace in the Valley

Death came quietly today... it slipped in behind me as I closed the church doors... it crept silently down the aisle beside me, sliding into the unoccupied seat that I didn't notice as I made my way to the front... Death occupied Joe's seat; a seat I forgot should be filled... He was a quiet man, with a quiet faith, though a double amputee and completely blind... Joe still always made sure to attend every Sunday, taking his place at the back of the church, He would close his eyes and sing along with us... hands raised like a child beckoning his father.... 3 weeks ago he sang for the church the old hymn peace in the valley... He sang these verses:

"Well, I'm tired and so weary
But I must go along
Till the Lord comes and calls me away, oh yes
Where the morning's so bright
And the Lamb is the light
And the night is as bright as the day, oh yes
There will be peace in the valley for me some day
There will be peace in the valley for me, oh Lord, I pray
There'll be no sadness, no sorrow, no trouble I see
There will be peace in the valley for me"

... the church newsletter this morning had him down for a prayer request for strength... and while our heads were bowed in prayer, Joe found a strength our words could not offer... and Maybe thats how this life is... between hymns and prayer requests, between the offering plate being passed around and the sinner's prayer prayed.... we slip into eternity... like a soft whisper... or a vacant seat... unknown to the world... we quietly surrender... the bible says that we are but a breath... like the flowers of the field here one day and gone the next... if we are so fleeting may our fragrance be strong... may we truly be "the aroma of Christ amongst those who are perishing".... a breath of life in a field of fading flowers... Joe was....

rain

What is it about the rain that makes us want to stand in the downpour of it? Why do we long to strip off societal constraints to stand in vulnerability under its unyielding flood? Today, I stood in the rain, on my back porch, all alone, I just stood in it, I let it pour down over me, drip down my hair, cold drops spilling down the back of my shirt, bare feet tapping out an unknown rhythm in the puddles of it, somehow in the midst of the torrential flood, I found myself uttering prayers, I found myself crying out, desperately, hungrily, crying out... I don't know what it is about rain that appeals to us... maybe its that in those drops we imagine more than water, we see our sorrow, and frustrations, our joy and exhilarations encapsulated in those watery spheres.... and we see the magnifications of our own tears... when the heavens darken and the skies open up to let down their fury and their sorrow.... I guess somehow I hope that when the rain stops and the thunder subsides that maybe in someway all my angst will also be so conveniently washed away... taken down the hillside in tidy rivulets... to be washed away onto someonelse's shore...