Last week, when I first walked out on the lanai of our daughter’s house in Hawai’i, I was startled by what was on the ridge across from me. I saw the flag, and as I began to get my bearings, I realized that the flag was that of Camp Smith, which sits atop the Aiea Ridge. The house that she has with her new husband, two children (with one due any day now), and their dog, is directly opposite that first ridge.

The weight of what I was seeing settled in on me. You see, the place she called home with our first son-in-law was on the Aiea Ridge on a street adjacent to Camp Smith. While there is much that the flag at Camp Smith symbolizes, for us, it is the symbol of our first real encounter with Oahu and military life here. It was the place where they fell in love with the island, and it was the place where they were growing their family.

Until … until the darkness set in that September day in 2016. That was the day the one they called Bull died. It was there that we were embraced … shrouded, really … by grief. It was the day our world radically changed. It was the day where the paths of great love and great suffering collided.

And now I see it from across the valley, and I am drawn to a truth that is greater than my own sense of fairness.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

The psalm keeps rising to the surface. The valley between us, as beautiful and full of life as it is, is, for me, the valley of the shadow of death. When we were last on that ridge, there was a baby that was going to be born without a dad. When we were last on that ridge, the world seemed hopeless. All that lay in front of us was the valley of the shadow of death.

Fast forward five years, and I am sitting on the ridge opposite that first one. We have a new son-in-law, two grandchildren who talk about a dad in heaven and a dad here with them, and a new grandchild on the way.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

There is something about seeing life from the other side of the valley. Having walked through the valley, I can most assuredly testify to the power of presence … of a God who walks with us in our darkest hours and who offers us pathways of wisdom that can only be found at the convergence of great love and great suffering. The truth that is greater than my own sense of fairness … my own experience of darkness … is the truth of abiding presence.

So as I prepare to sit down to a thanksgiving meal with our Hawaiian family, I will remember and give thanks for the gift of presence and the many memories, both beautiful and tragic, we share. My prayer is that we might all experience that presence when we have walked (or are walking) through the many valleys that contain shadows of death. My prayer is that we might pause to take a look back across the valley through which we have trod and see where we have experienced the comforting presence of this one who walks with us.

It is then that we will sit down at a feast and experience a cup that is overflowing. We will be invited again to the place of great love knowing now what the Apostle Paul knew … that great suffering cannot separate us from the great love of God in Christ Jesus. In the midst of our thanksgiving, may we experience the power of presence.

So finally, I am led to another truth that is greater than my sense of fairness: Christ is on both sides of the valley yet fully present with us in the valley … always offering pathways of hope, joy, love, and peace no matter what we are facing. For this presence, I give thanks.