a poem   tonight so thankful for You whose lashes healed me whose nakedness clothed me with salvation whose innocence removed my guilt You unchanging Rock midst my tumultuous emotions Shelter that graces me with peace and security the broad path that keeps my feet from slipping so thankful for the family You gave me for Dad whose character is like diamonds in the coal of night for sisters who understand, talk, laugh, grieve with me for 37 years with beautiful Mom for her parents— lights, love, warmth for friends from all seasons of life so thankful for Your abundance, extravagant in forgiveness,...

On many occasions, the bright colors of autumn trees have cast their glow against deep gray skies and chilly weather, outshining the gloom of a rainy day. But today—this week—the weight of ashen clouds seems to smother the beauty of the changing trees. This afternoon I looked through the rain-speckled windshield at a palette of leaves, but the heaviness in my heart illuminated the darkness of the sky. One year ago yesterday, we found out that cancer had made its way to my mom’s brain. The first week of November 2009 was filled with shock and terror. I can’t help but remember the emotion of that week,...

The other day when I walked out of my office, the cool, crystal-clear air smelled like a Pennsylvania autumn—a breezy freshness with a touch of smokiness and a trace of cold that might be on its way. Just a couple weekends ago, I was there running a 5K with my sisters in memory of our mom.   And almost a year ago now, I was there for the month of November, spending most of my time with my mom. I treasure and mourn, remember and long for that month, praying that the details of those days will return more fully to my mind.     I drove Mom to her appointments, saw the sealed, metal door...

Today I feel sad. The dew on the grass this weekend looked like tears in the sunlight. The sun-glinted leaves during my morning drive looked like cheeks wet from crying.  And this afternoon the gray of the bunched-up clouds reflects the gloom that fills my heart when I think about living the rest of my life without my mother. Even when the sun bursts through the clouds, sending its glow through the maples and over the grass, its beauty creates the ache of remembering my mom’s smile, her comforting voice. It’s been one of those weekends when I long to hear her tell me everything’s going to be okay....

The first week of September was lovely. I found myself breathing fresh air through open windows, delighting in the brilliance of blue skies sparkling in sunlight. I gloried in the glorious creation of God—something I hadn’t been able to do since my mom left this earth. I am beginning to enjoy again some of life’s beauty that I never imagined would be past my ability to deeply appreciate. It’s just that now I appreciate it in a different way. One thing I’ve learned this year through the study and contemplation of heaven is that it is beautiful—more exquisite and shimmery than a September day filled...

Joy is not the absence of sadness, else it would not be available in seasons of grief. Nor is it merely the knowledge that God works things out for our good if we love Him, that He builds character through suffering, that He will one day wipe every tear from our eyes. The key to joy, I’ve found, is intimacy with Christ. And intimacy with Christ comes through emotional honesty with Him. Joy comes from knowing Jesus. In joy, then, I find peace in the middle of pain, comfort in the depths of sorrow, hope in the anguish of grief—pain, sorrow and grief expressed fully and privately in the presence of...