Dead crabs seem to litter the beach today.  I wonder what killed them all?  Was it red tide or a virus or perhaps just the sea’s turbulence the last few days?  When I walk on the beach I typically see life, but occasionally I’m aware of death too—the shore is also a killing place.  Each of the shells over which I step was once alive, the fish bones over which I walk  were once part of living bodies, the scattered claws once belonged to living crabs.  It is a somber thought, the mortality with which all living things are afflicted.  And so I turn to you, Dear Father, grateful for your gift of eternity.  May my days be used in your service, and may my death be a wave that washes me to your side.  You, alone, are Lord over both life and death.

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