We went to a funeral today and there was a viewing. I remember I was about 10 years old the first time I ever saw a dead person, how cold, fragile, fearful, and helpless death looks on the outside. This man today that we remembered was older, I know that eventually everyone will die, but his death was so tender and fast. This man was such a joyful, giving, servant. His wife had polio, has polio, and he was always the one to take care of her. I think when I picture what love should look like, it's him and his wife, sweet old Mr. Smith, adoring his wife, pushing her around in her wheel chair, taking care of everything she needs and pretty much just showing his love for the Lord through the way he treated everyone around him. It's a picture of what commitment really is, until death due us part, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. Early fall he was diagnosed with lung cancer, but he decided not to go through chemotherapy and now less than three months later, he's gone. As my family was walking out of the sanctuary this morning I leaned over and gave his widowed wife a little kiss on her tender face, there were precious soft tears from a broken heart as she looked into the casket and starred into the empty eyes of a man who was her husband, and now two days after Thanksgiving we watched as she buried her best friend in the ground; the one who had so much joy and always had a smile on his face. It's hard to watch death. It's harder to watch the people death leaves behind...