I know I'll look back on this season as one of the most stressful I've ever had the privilege to live through.
Yes, a privilege.
Because I've encountered my Savior's startling grace at each faltering step and every jagged breath of the exhausting, tear-strewn path.
On one sunny Friday I moved, lock, stock, and barrel, from New York to Massachusetts. And the very next day, before I could even unpack a handful of boxes, my Dad moved on to his heavenly forever home, called oh-so-very-suddenly by his Maker.
After 40 years apart, I thought we were going to do life together for one final season.
God had other plans.
Moving on to live in a new location is a joyful gift, one waiting to be unwrapped and experienced with the greatest anticipation, an open door into the vast unknown with all its great big possibilities and inviting open-ended opportunities just waiting to be explored, savored, treasured.
When all is said and done, I guess we each got to move on to the exact location our hearts were yearning for.
It makes me smile that we both walk on the shores of crystal seas these days. Even if those golden spaces are universes apart.
God's Word tells me that there's no tears by your heavenly crystal sea, Daddy. But the tears are flowing freely on this side of heaven.
It's ok. Because there's one thing we're sharing right about now.
The Holy Spirit of God is closer than the next breath we breathe. And I would have it no other way.
