Glass Floats

I have in front of me a glass ball sent to me by my friend Justin. It is a small Japanese float that the fishermen used to use as a float in their nets. I am not sure if he had a reason for choosing a glass float for a gift but for me it has significance. I grew up on the coast of Oregon and after a storm would blow through I would run down to the beach to see what had been blown in. Many times I collected glass floats, covered with seaweed, sometimes pieces of nets would still be wrapped around them. I would pick up those floats from the sand and wonder at the journeys that they had taken to reach my beach. Some of the floats were so covered with seaweed that you just knew that they had spent years circling in the ocean. Holding them in my hand I would imagine what lands they had floated by. 
Now I have a new wonder to hold. I think of the seas that it might have traveled through and I think of the seas that we have to travel through. I see in my hand a symbol of my life. My skin feels the slime of the seaweed, I smell the sharp tang of the sea as the remnants of the nets rub against my arm. In my mind I see the oceans of life that we travel through, a world of hardship, suffering and sorrow. The experiences of our lives grow on us as the nets of our sins tangle us in their cold harsh grip. Caught in the grip of the currents of our lives we travel through many lands, bearing the scars of many encounters that the waves drive us into. Some of us burst at the crashing of the wave against the black rock. Many times the floats seem to rise up at the last second and slide around the harsh jaggedness. But for those glass floats there is only one safe harbor, one final destination, one final peace.

What will you find in death?