I woke up at 3 a.m. this morning.
Not because my alarm went off, but because my heart was already awake.
Today marks four years since I lost my dad.
And somehow, it also closes a week where I have lost three dear, dear people in my life.
Unexpectedly. Through illness and accident.
The kind of losses that don’t ease in gently. They crash in.
Before I even made it out of bed, I heard Mabel Joy in the prayer closet.
Deep sighs. The kind that sound like they’re carrying weight.
It was almost as if she knew I’d be joining her soon.
Like she got a head start on where I was headed.
This week, every conversation has felt the same.
Heavy. Hard.
Filled with stories that begin with, “We never saw this coming.”
Someone asked me if I ever ask God why.
This week… I sure have.
And yet, I also know He already expects me there.
With the questions.
With the tears.
With the things I may never fully understand on this side of heaven.
My heart aches for the families walking through these sudden losses.
There are some things a mind just can’t wrap itself around.
Grief doesn’t ask permission. It just shows up and settles in.
If this week has taught me anything, it’s how fragile life really is.
Moments are fleeting.
Time is sacred.
Hold your friends and family close.
Be intentional with every minute, because they pass faster than we realize.
As I sit here now in my prayer closet with Mabel, something unexpected happens.
My heart leans toward gratitude.
Not because the pain is gone, but because hope is still here.
Four years ago, I sang to my dad as he entered heaven.
And this morning, I found myself singing the same song again.
Every day with Jesus is sweeter than the day before…
The words don’t erase the grief.
But they steady my heart.
They remind me that I am not walking this road alone.
Even in loss, God is near.
Even in sorrow, He is faithful.
Even in grief, love still wins.
I am thankful for a Savior who carries me, and who carries every family walking through heartbreak today.
And I hold onto this quiet, unwavering hope.
This is not the end of the story.
As I remember my sweet dad today, and the dear friends I miss so deeply, I rest in knowing this.
They are whole.
They are home.
And one day, we will meet again.
Until then, I will keep loving.
Keep noticing.
Keep choosing hope.
And I believe, with a steady heart, that God is already meeting us in tomorrow.
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