We paused to sit on a log down at the bay late yesterday afternoon. We often pause for a few minutes during our daily walk. The beach was almost empty. There were a couple of gentlemen sitting on a log admiring the view a bit farther down the beach. The weather was a bit cooler than it has been. It wasn’t quite chilly, but it wasn’t warm, either. The sky which some might describe as gray, was mostly overcast, but the setting sun rendered everything silver. the sea, the sky, even the boats flowing on their moorings. The tide was nearly all the way in, but there were no people heading out in the boats. Although it is crab fishing season, regulations don’t allow for crab capture in our bay on Wednesdays.

Tourist season is ending around here. One of our friends, a school teacher, says that she always knows when it is time to head back to the classroom after summer vacation. It might be a rain shower or just a chilly day. There is something in the weather that shifts, demonstrating that autumn is just around the corner. It is that time of year, I guess.

There was almost no breeze. The water was flat, with just the gentlest of swish of water against the shore.

For a moment, we were calm and all seemed peaceful with the world.

We know that we are a part of a county that has far too many people who are experiencing homelessness. We see people pan handling on the street corners and sleeping against storefronts. We know that there is an epidemic of meth addiction and that unscrupulous drug dealers are selling drugs tainted with fentanyl that are dangerous and that people become addicted and fall victim to overdose. The small town of Ferndale, just a short drive from our home, has the state’s first public matching that dispenses medication that reverses opioid overdose. The medication is free. It is a sign of how serious the problem is right in our county.

We know that there is a bitter and close presidential election nearing with one candidate already publicly saying that he and his followers do not intend to accept the results if they lose. The threat to constitutional democracy and the peaceful transition of power that has been a hallmark of American democracy is real. We are not blind to the biter divide in our country.

We read the articles about the terrible tragedies of war in Gaza. We have witnessed the tragedy of tens of thousands of innocents killed in the attempt to wipe out terrorists. We read with horror the stories of entire families destroyed while others are left without access to food and medical care.

And yet, despite the horrors of the world, despite the suffering that is so real, despite the threats of violence and the violence delivered, yesterday for a few minutes we sat on a log and felt peace. And the peace we experienced was real. The opening lines of a hymn came to my mind:

When peace like a river attended my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say
It is will, it is well, with my soul

The author of those words, Horatio Spafford, had seen an incredible amount of tragedy. His four-year-old son and namesake died suddenly of scarlet fever. A year later a massive fire swept through downtown Chicago. It devastated the city including many of his properties. Almost 300 people lost their lives. 100,000 were left homeless. Two years later he decided to take his family on a vacation. He sent his wife and four daughters ahead on the steamship Ville du Havre. The ship was struck by another and sank within 12 minutes. All four of his daughters perished. His wife was found unconscious, floating on a plank of wood. Upon arriving in Cardiff, South Wales, she sent her husband a telegram including the words, “Saved alone . . .”

It was reported that while rushing to join his wife, Spafford was summoned to the bridge of the vessel on which he was riding and informed by the captain that they were passing over the spot where the Ville du Havre had sunk. He retreated to his cabin and wrote the first lines of a poem that became the hymn. He later wrote to his wife’s sister, “On Thursday last, we passed over the spot where she went down, in mid-ocean, the waters three miles deep. But I do not think of our dear ones there. They are safe . . . dear lambs.”

Peace is not the absence of grief. It is not an escape from tragedy. It is not ignorant of violence and death. Peace is a gift that acknowledges the realities of life and death, of suffering and loss, of grief and division. Spafford’s powerful lyrics that can affirm “it is well with my soul,” even when “sorrows like sea billows roll,” are one way of expressing what the bible calls, “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding.” (Philippians 4:7)

Not far from where we were sitting on the log yesterday is the mariner’s memorial at Drayton Harbor. It lists the names of those lost at sea, including many fishers who died while pursuing a living for their families. A short ways from that memorial is the Vigil sculpture at H street plaza commemorating the families who were left behind while their loved ones went to sea.

We don’t have to look far to see powerful symbols of peace that comes despite the tragedies of this world.

When we greet one another by passing peace each week in worship, what we are sharing is a genuine expression of courage in the face of grief, hope in the face of tragedy, life in the face of death, peace in the midst of a violent world.

Some evenings our sunsets are fiery orange displays of color. Some days the view is more subtle, silver shimmers on calm waters. Each day, we are grateful for the gift of peace. None of us knows how many times we will be given that gift. The span of our lives is short and the supply of such moments limited.

Peace is a precious gift not to be taken lightly.