Joy and sorrow intermingle in our days ... and God is working in both.
We lost our beloved grandma this week and we brought home our first puppy.
My husband and I had planned to take a much-needed weekend away after election season and surprise our girls with a puppy on the way home.
We went to Colorado, and just 15 minutes from the rental found out that my husband’s grandma would probably not make it through the night. We knew, without a doubt, we had to head back. We picked up a puppy crate, the dog breeder met us late with the sleeping puppy, and we prayed the entire way home that we’d get the chance to say goodbye.
We arrived home at 3:30 a.m., our new puppy Oliver woke us at 6:15 a.m., my husband arrived at the hospital at 7:30 a.m., and he was able to talk to his grandma until she passed at 8 a.m.
The Lord works in mysterious ways; in every little way, really,
The fact that he got to see her, to be with her in her final minutes, was such a precious gift from God.
And while Oliver is having accidents left and right and keeping us up at night, he is bringing well-timed and needed joy and snuggles that only God could have orchestrated.
For everything there’s a season (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8) and sometimes they come at once.
Sometimes grief and joy come at the same time. Let yourself feel them both.
It’s OK to be strong and afraid,
feel alone and lifted up,
feel happy and sad.
We are grieving the loss of one of the most joyful, strong, Christian women I knew, but resting in the assurance that she is in her Father’s arms. As her husband of 68 years said at the end, “Go home and see Jesus whenever you’re ready.”
God is present, even in our pain. He is working and lovingly orchestrating his plan in ways we can’t even imagine, long before it makes sense.
Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
and do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make straight your paths.
We lost our beloved grandma this week, and we brought home our first puppy.
How my kids and I are dealing with grief and mourning in isolation