“Surely He has borne our griefs And carried our sorrows; Yet we esteemed Him stricken, Smitten by God, and afflicted..” -Isaiah 53:4
The shadows had long since cast their demeanor upon the ground. The remnants of twilight barely lit the sky above. Before me, the water swirled in eddies as it flowed past where I stood on the bank of the small river. Upstream from where I watched, voices of the rocks speaking through the rippling currents rose into the air, joining the chorus of peepers that spoke of the coming spring. The woods stood silent, their grasp upon the mountain beyond the distant shore stood high above, towering over me like a skyscraper, but not of a man’s hand, but of God’s.
Moments before, the long line of cars had throttled past the church behind where I now stood. They were members of the entourage who had attended the funeral of the two firemen, father and son, Chris and Cody Gragg, who perished in the fiery crash just days before; lives gone in the blink of an eye.
I paused from the day’s events to focus on that moment in time and all that we had to reflect upon in our lives. The very breath we breathe to the loved ones who surround us, we seldom stop and listen to the sounds of life around us. The motorcade’s rumble lasted for more than the time it took to carry three miles of vehicles around the curvy roadway of the mountain trail. The echoes of those cars following the valley beyond slowly fade. The memories of the father and son may fade with time, but their time on earth was as real as the moments they shared with those around them. Those memories become one with their keepers, intertwining into their own lives, becoming one in the same. To their loved ones, theirs will be an emptiness that can never be replaced.
Our faith keeps us going when the darkness seems to creep too close.
The blessings surround us everywhere we look if we only take the time to notice.
The flags hung in sorrow at half-mast in the tiny town of Collettsville, heavy with grief of loss. One can only hope that their servitude to the community was just a reflection of the men within, for if that were so, a far greater glory awaits them on the other side. I did not know them, but even so, when pillars of a tiny village like ours leave this world, the vacuum that is left is felt by all; and so it is.
Like those disciples, after Christ had been buried in the tomb, in the hours of darkness before the Resurrection, their greatest fears seemed to have been fulfilled. Yet, it was not to be the end of the story. Christ would be the victor over death. He had borne all their griefs and sorrows to the grave, but the grave would not hold Him. It was not the end of the story.
This is certainly not the end of this one either.
God has a purpose in all that we do, and all that we see through Him, and so it is.
The river gently weeps in sorrow as the night birds join the somber chorus. God’s creation singing praises to His name.
Time marches on, and life continues as darkness unfolds.
Tomorrow is another day.
Thanks be to God.
