Funerals and Babies
In April 1865, the Civil War was ending, and Washington, D.C. was alive with both celebration and grief.
The cannons had fallen silent, but the scars—physical and emotional—ran deep.
Abraham Lincoln hosted a small gathering at the White House just days after General Lee’s surrender at Appomattox.
The mood in the room was strange.
Some were jubilant.
Others were hollow-eyed from years of loss.
Lincoln, himself exhausted, spoke quietly but deliberately.
He acknowledged the nation’s heartbreak—more than 600,000 dead, thousands of towns forever changed.
And then he turned to the future.
He spoke of how, even in the shadow of death, life continues.
Somewhere in America, at that very moment, a widow was burying her husband… while, across the street, a young mother was cradling her firstborn.
Loss and renewal.
Grief and joy.
Forever intertwined.
This week, I attended the funeral of my childhood best friend’s mother.
She had a great life and raised 3 fantastic kids
I saw faces I hadn’t seen in a long time.
Old stories were retold.
Old connections rekindled...link we had not missed a beat.
As I was heading up to Philadelphia, another close friend told me he had just become a grandfather for the first time!
Funerals.
Babies.
The bookends of life.
Moments like these strip everything else away and remind me of the only three things that matter—what I call The Resilient Triangle.
Health. Wealth. Relationships.
Without health, life is shorter and harder.
Without wealth, choices become fewer and narrower.
Without relationships, even the best moments feel hollow.
Everything else is noise.
I have not done the best job keeping up with Relationships...after this week I am going to be very intentional about changing that.
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