I missed you today. Not that I don’t miss you every day, because I do. But today, it was especially strong.

Which side of the aisle are you on today? Regardless of where you sit, I assure you that Jesus is there with you. Cry out to Him when you are grieving and troubled and you’ll find comfort that surpasses what you’ve ever known before.

Virginia’s spring this year reminds me of the fluctuating emotions of grief, especially in the first year or two, where you experience a back and forth roller-coaster ride between feeling like you can survive the moment, to despondency and despair.

When the storms of earthly life rage against me and you, and they will, let us keep our hands confidently placed in our Lord’s. We are safe; we are protected; we are His. “For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.”

Are you a bereaved mom? Then you already know that every day is a day that you miss your sweet child, but Mother’s Day, and perhaps the anticipation of Mother’s Day, can be even harder.

I recently found several pictures of us playing games and recalled the closeness those times created. Lots of laughter…lots of intimacy. From the beginning of time, God’s design included close relationships within a family.

Two weeks from now we’ll gather online for our first Our Hearts Are Home conference, and we hope you might join us there. If you are a bereaved parent or someone who would like to better understand how to minister to a grieving friend, come share this time with us.

What would the Church look like if each of us demonstrated simple active kindness to someone every day? Let’s see!

Knowing that God is in control of the world and the future, brings me comfort. It remains to be seen what 2021 will bring. But whatever is ahead of us will come as no surprise to Him.

Writing about Nathan’s name turned my mind to thinking about all of the names in the Bible that refer to Jesus — the name above all names, our Messiah. On Friday of this week, we will celebrate His birth and His plan for our redemption.

I’m amazed at how important these memories of clothing seem to be. If you are a bereaved mom, then I’m guessing that you can picture your sweet child’s clothes through the years as well.

After Nathan left us I began a quest for learning, unlike anything I’d ever done before. I had so many questions! Why are we really here? What’s the point of earthly life? Does God “cause” people to die or simply “allow” it? Why does a loving God allow pain and suffering? What am I personally supposed to do until I die?

I have experienced His love for me throughout my life, but it was only through the greatest sorrow I have ever known that an understanding of the depth of His love became evident to me. Sometimes I wonder how I didn’t see it before.

But as full of life as he always was on earth, I know he’s even more alive today. Our real life, full and eternal, awaits for those of us that are still here.

Am I dragging around an oversized suitcase full of earthly things that weigh me down and have no eternal value? Is my focus on things that truly matter? Am I storing up “treasures in heaven?

Only fifteen months before Nathan left us, my mom was diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. When she called me with the grim diagnosis, I was heart-broken and desperate to tell someone. Nathan was the only one home at the time, and as I headed downstairs to find him, he met me with open arms. I’ll never forget him holding me tightly as I grieved the news I had just been given.

Illnesses and accidents happen, regardless of our diligence—regardless of our love. The “Mama Bear” in us strives to take care of things, always ensuring that our children are protected and thriving. And as hard as it may be for us to admit, there are things in this earthly life that are out of our control— many things.

I can’t help but think that our earthly lives have some similarities. We are part of a battle, striving in the midst of it to glorify the Lord with our lives, and in the end, we just want to make it home.

“All roads lead to Rome.” I’m sure you’ve heard that phrase. Early in my grief, all roads led to Nathan. All day long, normal life things led to heart-wrenching memories of him.