“Come and spend a week in Michigan,” my mom proposed hopefully early in February. “When do the kids have their winter break?”

It just so happened the week-long break of the kids online classes fell on the one year anniversary of my father’s death from cancer.

Isn’t God so kind when He tenderly places one or two “just so happened” in your path. Not only was it the week off from The Potters School, it was also winter break for Daniel and Joshua’s NJROTC classes.

Deep breath – gathering with family, reliving memories of Dad, laughing, crying, a new house for Mom, more memories, and an anniversary full of “Firsts”.

“I’ll come,” I promised, “shall I bring Rachel?”

“Definitely,” Mom laughed, “if she can bear to leave the kittens behind.”

And so Rachel and I packed our things and set off for a red-eye flight to Detroit. We landed amidst falling snow, climbed into Mom’s (or Mamie as she is known to the grandkids) car and wound our way to her new condo. How odd to see my sweet mother begin a new chapter in her life; a chapter full of precious, dear friends, a vibrant church, a lovely new home, and yet empty of the very person who mattered most and has been her Beloved for nearly fifty years.

Rachel and I were honored to be included in several outings with Mamie’s friends. It is very evident to me that she is richly blessed with some incredible, godly, faithful friendships.

Yes, indeed. The boys came and we laughed and cried and talked about memories. Logan (age 3) played trains and insisted the celebration was all for his birthday. The cousins enjoyed each other and opened presents and snacked on our traditional Christmas treats. We spent the first holiday together in the new condo – Christmas/Valentine’s Day/Easter all rolled into one. We bought things for the new place, played Wii games, and watched old family slides. We worshiped together on Sunday, we hugged and then we said goodbye.

It was good. There was loss and change and tension. And the twinkle and energy and gentle force that made up Grandad was NOT there. Still, somehow we march on. We worry/trust, hurt/forgive, doubt/believe. We laugh and cry and remember and somehow the days pass.

God is Good. He is true and present; He has not abandoned us. We have all seen how He has walked closely with Mom every step of this journey. It is comforting to watch Him work and encouraging to see Mom’s faithful response.

Dearest Mamie,

I am so proud of you. You are an amazing example to me (and others) of true grace and strength. I know you don’t want to be strong, but every day I see you clinging to Jesus and finding the courage to go on. I know you don’t want (at such a cost) to be a model of faith and beauty in sorrow, but you are. I know you often feel depleted and weak and lacking “people energy,” and yet over and over I see you ministering to others, reaching out to the lonely and sad. You reflect God’s wisdom in your countenance, words and counsel and, even in the darkest days, you shine with the light of Jesus’ redeeming work.

Thank you for being so transparent in your grief and sadness; so loving in your care for Dad, me, Tim, my children, your sons/daughters-in-law, and the grandchildren; so generous with your time and resources; so clear in your beliefs; so completely and utterly supportive of me as your daughter; and most of all a passionate follower of Jesus.

I love you!

Kathy

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