God wants the treasure that He is within us to spill and shine out from our lives. That of course is humanly impossible. That is why David spoke of the power of the Holy Spirit within him (II Samuel 23:2) in his final words; so we echo Paul's words of the precious Spirit of the Living God within us. It is God's grace and power through His Spirit that is our only source of strength to live and die this way (2nd Cor. 4:7).

Let me share a contrast between two women at the end of their lives.

The first looked only at herself. As she ended life she remembered what she had and lost and was drowned by her own troubles, grief, and losses. The second had just as many troubles and sorrows and losses-but saw each of them through the lens of God's Word. What a difference it makes to see our life as God's plan that we willingly submit to day by day.

The following poem was found among the personal possessions of an elderly woman who had died in a nursing home in Great Britain in the 1940's. A nurse, packing up her possessions, found this poem. The quality so impressed the staff that copies were distributed to all the nurses in the hospital.

Grumpy Old Woman

What do you see nurse, What do you see? 
What are you thinking When you look at me?
A grumpy old woman, Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit With far away eyes.
Who dribbles her food And makes no reply;
Then you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try."
Who seems not to notice The things that you do,
And forever is losing A stocking or shoe...

I'll tell you who I am, As I sit here so still,
As I move at your bidding, As I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten With a father and mother,
And brothers and sisters Who love one another.
A girl of sixteen, With wings on her feet;
Dreaming that soon, A lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at twenty My heart gives a leap;
Remembering the vows That I promised to keep.

At twenty-five, I have young of my own,
Who need me to build A secure and happy home.
A woman of thirty, My young now grow fast,
Bound together with ties That forever should last.
At forty, my young ones Have grown up and gone;
But my man is beside me To see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more...Babies play 'round my knees;
Again we know children, My loved ones and me.

Dark days are upon me, My husband is dead
I look at the future, I shudder with dread;
For my young are all rearing Young of their own,
And I think of the years And the love I have known.
I am an old woman now, Nature is cruel,
'Tis her jest to make old age Look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles, Grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone Where I once had a heart...

I think of the years All too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact That nothing can last...