A year ago today, my best good buddy Choca died in my arms. Many of you were part of my community here at the time and remember it. It kicked off a year of loss: our dog, our unborn baby, my job. This is why I was convinced Sassy wouldn't make it to 2022. Choca was my hiking partner for many years, and because she never said anything, I came to enjoy silence rather than the adrenaline and distractions of my life off the mountains. I think my career in TV news eventually ended because of that - as the silence allowed me self-relfection, which brought self-awareness, and with it, awareness of the world around me. Choca's death was a violent one in the sense that natural death, I've heard, isn't always how movies depict it. This was the first time I'd ever been there for a last breath and for months after it, I woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and had other unexplained health problems. This may seem an odd reaction, but as a child I accompanied my doctor parents to hospitals and witnessed sickness and dying at a very young age. Avoiding death, while trying to understand it, became a driving motivation for me. Perhaps it is, in part, why I went to seminary and eventually became a reporter. I sought distraction from my own mortality while also seeking to control it through knowledge. A losing combination. In the book he wrote about his wife's death, CS Lewis said, "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid." That was my experience. And I had no choice but to sit through it. Then to confront it again and again throughout the rest of the year. But as I sat quietly, I realized something. I had believed that if I could unlock the secrets of death and finally come to peace with it- the ultimate question of existence that has eluded philosophers for centuries - I would finally come to know God. Instead, after last year, I now believe that I had gotten it backwards. Instead, it is coming to know God that brings one peace about death (and all other things for that matter). And thus begins a new journey, not of the head but of the heart. I'll end with another quote from a favorite Lewis book, the last lines of Til We Have Faces, “I ended my first book with the words 'no answer.' I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice? Only words, words; to be led out to battle against other words. Long did I hate you, long did I fear you.” Blessings to all of you on your journey. Thank you for being a part of mine.