Here's a pic from last Sunday's half marathon in Milwaukee. We're about a half mile from the finish line.
My age has put me at the very back of the pack. When I finish a race there are only a handful of runners behind me. Yet I have been overwhelmed by how nice people are at the finish line. I am a member of a special community. I have comrades in pain and victory. I imagine this was the kind of companionship the apostle Paul experienced with his friends Timothy and Epaphroditus (Phil. 2). We -- all of us -- need people to talk to. People to listen to. People to be with.
I came to this love of people through a familiar teacher, adversity. Becoming a widower brought me closer to my kids and grandkids. Pain turned out to be a blessing -- a key to opening up a larger life. The word "others" now means more to me than ever. I need the support, the laughter, the love that other people bring to my plate -- be they family members or fellow runners.
"Every tragedy is a treasure," wrote one playwright. Through loss there is always the chance that you will do what so few seem to be able to do: combine pain with joy.