Pondering the Shadow

I've been pondering that oft-quoted phrase in the 23rd Psalm, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. . . ."
I used to think the phrase described only certain people at certain stages of life. When faced with a terminal illness, you're walking through the valley of the shadow of death. When you've lost your mother or a good friend, you must walk through that lonely valley. When comforting someone in that valley, you're in the presence of the shadow of death.
But I've decided the phrase really applies to everyone alive on this earth. Because, from the moment we're born, we're in the shadow of death.
Nurses in the delivery room scurry to check vital signs to discover if there's any imminent threat to the infant's new life.
Mothers read books about childhood illnesses and pester the pediatrician about symptoms they can't understand.
Fathers worry when they finally hand the car keys to the new teen driver.
Young adults monitor their diets and plan their exercise regimens--all in pursuit of sure ways to delay an early death.
And older adults laugh about their aches and pains and pills and prescriptions, because they don't want to discuss how the shadow is getting darker and larger as the reality it represents grows closer.
This sounds a little morbid, but I don't mean it that way. But I have been thinking about death as I've realized three golden saints have walked through the valley and past the doorway of death in just the last few days.
Last week we attended the visitation for Alice Weiner. Soon after we learned that Sherwood Smith had died. Tomorrow I'll attend Marjorie Miller's funeral. All three led exemplary lives. All three challenge me to be better, to develop a sharper focus, to imitate Christ much better than I have so far.
The shadow is not a bad place. It provides shade and rest, protection from the heat of the day. And from the shadow we have a clear vision of the light.
These are unfinished thoughts, but I'll treat my diary as a sketchbook for the final column I want to write for Christian Standard--probably tomorrow after returning from Marge's memorial service, in time to post at ChristianStandard.com on Thursday.

I attended a simple training session for worship service hosts at church at 6:30 and then returned home to enjoy a bowl of Evelyn's wonderful white chicken chili before doing my errands to get ready for tomorrow. It's been a productive (although not noteworthy) day, and I'm looking forward to fond memories, challenging thoughts, and good fellowship at the funeral and dinner afterwards tomorrow.

Brought Together

Yesterday I wrote about the weather, but there's more to say today! The wind was blowing when I was in and out of the car after work this evening, and the temperature was in the teens. The high today was only in the twenties, and I think we'll record single digits overnight. Brrrrr! A quick and intense snow shower late this morning caused some roads to freeze and there were two massive pile-ups, one on I-275 and another on I-75 north of town. I was grateful to be in all day.
Spent most of the day catching up on correspondence, handling errands related to being gone last week, and beginning to work through my to-do lists generated by our contributing editors meeting last week. I think my accomplishments would not seem that impressive, were I to list them, but I'm feeling good about progress made so far.

I met Evelyn about 5:30 at the church to offer condolences to Paul Wiener, whose lovely wife Alice passed away last week. The funeral will be tomorrow morning.
"You certainly should have no regrets," I told Paul, who had cared for her in her increasing frailty through most of these years we've gotten to know them since they moved to Mason Christian Village.
"My daughters wrote a long obituary," he told us. "And I learned things about Alice in that obituary I never knew before!" As usual with Paul, and even at a time like this, there's laughter and a wry outlook on life.
"I hope you're able to rest," I said to him.
"Oh, yes," he answered, "but I don't sleep that well. I'm up several times every night. And I've been reaching across the bed for Alice, and she's not there."
He said it matter-of-factly, but I tried to move the conversation along without showing he had brought tears to my eyes.
We had plenty of laughter in the hallway outside the chapel, though, talking with Jeff and Martha Hill and Terry and Judy Tabor, former White Oak Christian Church friends who go to church in Worthington, Ohio, now.
Verna Weber stayed overnight with us last night, because she came to town to visit her mother yesterday and this morning. She made the trip to tell her mother that her mother's only living brother had passed away. She said Mildred was sad.
We had fun catching up with Verna, though, and watching "Downton Abbey" together.
Life and death--they bring Christian friends together in unexpected ways.