On Death and Sadness

I am not afraid of dying, not really. Oh I’m not in a hurry mind you, but I am not afraid. Regrets, sure, but as old Blue Eyes said, too few to mention. I would hope my sons know how much I have loved and treasured them and that I am content and completely trusting in Jesus.

Sure there is work left to be done, but if Father is calling me home, then He must have someone else lined up to do that work. And yes there are things I would like to have done and places I have always wanted to see, but nothing could compare with what is waiting. So I am fine, really, fine if it is today.

I'm not a poet and cannot say I have read a great deal, but two come to mind this morning; William Wordsworth & Emily Dickinson.

Wordsworth wrote:

What though the radiance that was once so bright,

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be;

In the soothing thoughts that spring

Out of human suffering;

In the faith that looks through death,

From “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood” (glory of the flower)

Here is an excerpt from Dickinson's “In this short Life”:

In this short Life

That only lasts an hour

How much — how little — is

Within our power