"It is with great sadness, that we announce the passing of . . . ." You've read the statement before and it struck

you because this time it was someone you knew, someone very close, a friend, a brother or sister, a peer in school or the workplace.

And so you send a card, condolences, flowers, food or something else of meaning. You attend the funeral. You care and you care deeply and you hurt with those who are closest. It's hard, but you know you need to be there. Yesterday, we returned from one of those events-the loss of a young man, who because of some chromosome issues at birth, finally lost his battle with life on this earth. Adam was Richard and Mary Ann's 21-year-old son.

I'm still struck by Richard's comments as we prepared for the celebration of Adam's life. Richard is a great farmer/seed grower back in Manitoba. This last year, as many of you know, was a disaster for farmers in that province. Too much rain in spring, so seeding was delayed beyond a reasonable date and then so dry when the little that did get seeded, that it wasn't even worth harvesting. My question of Richard, "First you lost an entire crop, (a year's finances) now you lose your son? What do you do with that?"

"Oh Glenn, if we would have had our regular crop, we'd of been so busy harvesting this fall and then the winter would have revolved around cleaning seed, marketing and the like. But now, we've had all this time to be with Adam."

I recall during the "farming" part of my life, how the best crops always surfaced in the valleys, the lowest parts of the field. The best top soil had often eroded into the lower parts of the field and it was here that you would find the most and the longest heads of wheat in the field. It was in the low spots, the valleys, where the combine began to growl as it was dealing with the heavy crops. It's in the valleys, that we had our best harvests.

As I listened to Richard and Mary Ann, I came face-to-face with a family who understood something incredible about life through the deep valleys they have travelled. Just a rather ordinary family, who had long ago learned something about the priorities of life, but who were now faced with the loss of a very precious son.

I was listening to a man who was at peace in the midst of his pain. Richard related his discovery of this peace to the pressures he had so often felt in farming, which is such a weather-related industry. At one point, several years ago, standing out in a field, just wanting to give up, he finally declared his need of God's help-"I can't do this anymore." That's where it all began. That day Richard established some priorities. So often, the cynics refer to God as a crutch, but I can assure you, God had given him a genuine peace, not a crutch. So when Adam's death was imminent, in Richard's mind, God had provided them an even greater opportunity to share their love with their son during his final days. God and family are so clearly their first priority, a priority that is carrying them through this dreadful loss. And the other things of life, the things we so often find ourselves worrying about, have seemingly taken care of themselves, a beautiful confirmation of Matthew 6: 30-33. The challenge for each of us is to ask, "does the way I live life, do the priorities I have established, inspire that kind of peace in my life?"

? Glenn Driedger is the lead pastor of Chilliwack Evangelical Missionary Church. Your comments are welcome at glenn.driedger@ telus.net.