Life indeed is a sea. Sometimes it is calm and peaceful, and other times the wind and waves boisterously rage. Unexpectedly, a storm can roll quickly out of seeming “nowhere.” In the Kingdom of Heaven, the tempestuous nature of changing time will be gone. “And there was before the throne as it were a sea of glass like crystal” (Rev. 4:6; 15:2). The nature of life will be restored to its original created purpose. The Sea of Life will be eternal and founded in God. No more storms. “And God shall wipe away from them every tear from their eyes; there shall no longer be death, nor mourning, nor crying; nor shall there any longer be pain” (Rev. 21:4).

I had good intentions and plans for writing during May. Clearly, they did not come to pass. An unexpected storm quickly swept upon me and my family. We knew it had been lurking on the horizon, but it blew in much sooner than we anticipated.

My father has been having some health struggles for a few years now. At the beginning of May, he began to become visibly worse. A visit to the doctor did not yield much helpful insight. In late May, he had to be taken to the emergency room. After some tests and scans, we were informed that he was riddled with cancer. There was nothing to be done for him. It had progressed even into his bones. In hindsight, the previous health struggles became less mysterious. But still, how is cancer missed? Most of all, since he had been to numerous doctor visits before? A question that will remain just a question, most likely. From the ER, my dad was placed in hospice. He entered the ER early on Saturday morning, and hospice took him that evening. The next day, Sunday, in the evening, he fell asleep in the Lord. Memory eternal, my dear father!

Like a huge wave over the bow, death rolled in quickly and unexpectedly. In its foamy wake, my father was swept away. Such is the path of our mortal race for now. Away into the deep abyss, and what path is trodden there? Whither is the final voyage of man, and to what port do the cold waves of death bring a man? The final haven where the sea becomes, as it were, glass. Someday, the same wave will return to sweep me away. For now, I’m still holding on to the frail rope of mortal life upon the deck of my earthly voyage.

Unexpected death leaves the living with a lot to do. Maybe this is the case even with “expected” death. Most of my “extra” time has been spent attending to the many details of death that are left to the living. The most important thing is the human; my mother was now left without her husband. They had been married for 51 years. One can grow quite accustomed to another’s presence over the span of five decades. Those who pass through the last journey of death leave earthly cares behind. The living are left to wrestle with those cares. Tears and pain still remain here.

I have my wife and kids around. The bustle of human relationships helps the mind to mend. Yet, when the household becomes just two, husband and wife, and then one passes on, the other is left alone. The house echoes with memories of the other; just around the corner, one expects to see them walking again. Possibly it was a dream? Like the waves of the sea, the emotions roll up and down. The salt water of tears flows over the deck of our lives. So it is, to the one left that care must be given. One parent now. Alone on this earth. Even a son or daughter can’t fill the void that a true spouse leaves. And yet, the children are left to help as best they may.

And so, my desire to write had to be set aside for a little while. Time keeps moving, no matter how fervently you desire that it stand still, at least for a few minutes. A small moment to breathe. A brief pause. But it is relentless. It moves forward without regard for any person. Tumbling and dragging, time cares not.

As June begins, I return to my intention of getting some writing done. I apologize to readers, especially to those who have graciously taken a paid subscription. I now hope, by God’s grace, to write again.

Please remember the departed servant of God, the Priest Thomas.