While I was in Tennessee last week, I was able to attend the kids church. Kaytie, my daughter in law, had reservations about my attending. Their pastor has been preaching on a series, Love, Time, Death. They had covered Time the previous week, and she was concerned about how I would handle a sermon on Death. It was ironic, because I have been thinking so much about time lately.  

Time is what we want most, but what we use worst.  
-William Penn

Yesterday was my Mother’s 87^th birthday. I know she thinks about time. I have been so blessed to have her as my mother. I’ve taken her for granted, I know that’s true. I’ve not known anything different as she’s been there for me my whole life.  

Her love spills onto others that have no blood ties. Her children, their partners, grandchildren, and great grandchildren all share her love with adopted kids in the neighborhood. And most likely, many I know nothing about. Picture a Mrs. Roger’s. That’s her. 

If you were to ask her what her greatest accomplishment was, I’d bet my life her answer would be, being a mother. And next would be carrying the title, The Cookie Queen. I pray we have lots of Time yet together. 

Last week, Kobe Bryant and his 13 year- old daughter, along with seven other people died in a helicopter crash in California. Not near enough Time for their families and loved ones. There’s never enough Time.  

In the sermon last week, the pastor stated that Death gives Time all of its value. Because of death, we grieve, but the expression of grief does not mean we lack faith. Grieving is an expression of extreme sorrow, and devastating sadness. Faith helps to get us through. I’ve been grieving for seven years now.  But it doesn’t mean it is without hope. And it doesn’t come with a timeline either. 

Sadly, most of us grieve alone. What would our path look like if we could share that grief and not feel judged? I know it makes people uncomfortable, but it’s a fact of living. We live, we die. We are dying right now. But we don’t talk about it.  

Grief for me, as it turns out is a blessing, and a gift from God. Death precedes new life, and brings with it traces of what was left behind. I see Jillian everywhere. She’s in my home, she’s in my pups, she’s in my dreams. I don’t grieve without hope. 

I’ve found Hope. I pray that you do, too.  

Peace, 

Susan