Today’s blog is dedicated to Don Audibert and his family. Don was known by all to be a loving man who placed his family at the center of his activities and his heart. A man devoted to God and to helping others, Don was taken away from us in a motorcycle accident just several days ago.
Don was passionate about motorcycles and being out in God’s creation taking in the wind, sun, and mountain air. At 58, his short life seems to have touched many through his contracting business and his service in the church and in the community. Many, no doubt, are asking “Why?” Why was this loving man taken in such a way by a head on collision with a driver who was under the influence of drugs and had crossed into Don’s lane?
While we do not have the answers to such questions, I believe we can take heart in the overcoming power of God to defeat Death when Death deals its last hand. When Death seems to strike a proud pose thinking itself victorious, we can be sure the reality is quite different. Just as Death boasts of its supposed ability to cut our ride short, we find the real thrill ride has only just begun. As Death makes its last attempt to snatch us from the hands of God, the impotence of Death is revealed as God Himself throws His own arms around us and carries us safely home.
These truths in mind, and this hope assured amidst the loss of Don Audibert, I offer the words of John Donne as a dedication to Melanie (Don’s wife), the rest of his family, and all those who knew and loved him deeply. May these words remind you that Death does not win. Lost in the details of the police reports and newspaper coverage is the majestic reality of Don’s best ride, a ride into eternal bliss and vistas beyond compare. This is why we can say with Johne Donne, “Death, be not proud!” Here is Donne’s sonnet:
Death, be not proud,
though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful,
for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure;
then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more;
Death, thou shalt die.
Enjoy the ride Don. The ride without compare which has no end. All who knew you are looking forward to the day when they can join you around the next turn.
Bruce Smith,
optimuslife.org