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The Sting

"Oh death, where is your sting?" I am awakened with the music and the lyrical phrase in my head.  Yes, death stings, wounds and pains me.  It always will.  It's never right, it goes against the very fact of life.  It seems to creep in upon you and often unrighteously snatches away the innocent, the one least expecting it.  It leaves us behind in sorrow and with a host of unanswered, unexplainable questions.  The obvious question is why?  Why death, why now, why them?

The answers never really satisfy, no matter how we attempt to provide rational consolation.  My dear friend has just found out her baby of 9 weeks no longer has a heartbeat, so she awaits the miscarriage.  Only guesses and conjecture give reason for the cause, it comes down to accepting the pregnancy wasn't made to be viable from the start and this is nature's way of halting life.  Perhaps all that is true, but the sting wounds deep . . .

Thumbing through old photo books of family times and work events, I find former lives vibrant on the pages.  I am reminded of the experiences and circumstances behind  each picture.  It seems strange to see the images and realize that is all I have left.  I have become the curator of their museum.  I am the one that hears their voices, their laughter, and their joy.  But I am the one that's stung . . . 

I have a very wounded heart.  It initially was stabbed and steri stripped with my mother's passing, then that wound was opened more with my Daddio's death.  By then the wound could only heal from the bottom up.  My heart was obliterated with family stresses in the following years, just pieces of muscle hung together.  And now, on the pieces are patches to bridge the stinging gaps.

Death where is your sting?  My heart still beats and breathes of life.  I do not know the reasons why death comes, but I do know that when I am surrounded and shot with the arrows of death,  God is near to me.  In sorrow, in unexplainable times, with only unanswered questions, God is with me in the pain and darkness.  That is my only answer, life happens and unfolds without my control.  It will always try to wound me, but I don't need to be defensive or try to avoid, deny the grief, the sorrow or the pain.  Jesus went ahead of me into death and returned with life for me to gain today.  

Stung? Yes, but only for a time.  I ride my bike these days with my music in my ears.  Every 5 minutes I am told how far I have traveled and the pace that I am doing.  I pedal with the images of Taffy on my shoulders, my boys on either side, Brawny and Quasi on one side, Bandit and Goldyn on the other.  All together, we get up the hill and fly down quickening our ride each time.  Will I ever be reunited with my buddies who brought so much joy to my life on earth?  I do not know, but I sure do hope so.  Yet, this I know that God is near me, with me this very day, surrounding me with His love and His care.  He has drunk of the cup of death that would defy all hope for me.  

So, I can sing, "Oh, death where is your sting?"

". . . your prayer has been heard and your alms
 have been remembered before God." 
 (Acts 10:31)

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