This week, a celebration of 50 years of marriage for one of my cousins and her husband. There was a surprise party thrown (though sources state that my cousin knew something was up) for them by their children, and several of us Skyped in to give our good wishes. First time I've Skyped in a long while. I wish Bonnie and Chuck many more years of happiness!
And on Christmas Day, one of my cousins passed away after a battle from cancer. Anna and Robert Hicks had 24 cousins. Sandy was the second of them to pass. My older brother, Curt, was the first. Sandy bravely fought cancer. But everyone I know and have known (Curt, and my husband, John, two of them) is brave in the face of that monster. I wish Peace and God's grace upon her family.
Around this time, three years ago, I was saying my final goodbyes to my beloved husband, John. The staff had told me that they were seeing signs of his final days, and so all I could do was to hold on tight to my faith, my family, and the skilled staff charged with John's care. I had three days left with him. As the sun arose on a January Saturday, my husband breathed his last.
Time marches on. People celebrate births and birthdays. Wedding anniversaries. New jobs. Retirement. All sorts of good news that comes to us. And they also lose people around them. Lose jobs. Lose homes. Every day.
The one sure thing about being born, someone has said, is that we will die.
So all I can say on this cold and gloomy January Saturday evening is to hold on tight, celebrate those around you.
For as Henri Frederic Amiel has said: life is short, and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts around us. So be swift to love, and make haste to be kind. And as people in the Episcopal Church have added to this phrase: And the blessing of God, who made us, who loves us,
and who travels the way with us be with you now and forever.
Amen.
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