Just as when we come into the world, when we die we are afraid of the unknown. Dying is like being born: just a change.
*
The coffin was beautifully designed, pure white in color—just as Augustine had requested.
He'd insisted on a white coffin, saying it matched the soul of the one who would rest inside it which was pure, gentle, and full of light.
Death!
Death is no respecter of anyone… no matter the size of your name, the weight of your wealth, or the depth of your faith.
It doesn't knock before entering. It doesn't send a warning or ask for permission.
Death isn't a friend to the poor or the rich… it simply waits in silence, then arrives like a thief in the night.
We're all marked for it. Some sooner. Some later. But everyone has a date with the end.
It's the ultimate price for the privilege of breathing.
And yet, for all its power, death still can't carry river water with a sieve.
