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.