Snapshots from the Valley

The Valley of the Shadow of Death is not a place I like to visit, for what must be obvious reasons, but it offers some undeniably beautiful scenery.  I'd brought my camera, but not the will to use it, so words must suffice to show you the beauty I glimpsed in my family's time of grief.  I promise to use less than a thousand per picture.


A father, remembered by many as vibrant, passionate, and fully committed to Christ, who despite his weaknesses and failings touched more lives more deeply than I had imagined and who raised four children (one of whom he has waited almost twelve years to see in glory) who share his faith, an accomplishment he would surely attribute wholly to God, but of which he would be most humbly proud..

A mother who is stronger than she knows and who will by God's grace and sheer determination move forward without her husband of forty years...

A sister, wise and wonderful, whose steadfast manner steadies those around her, who knows when to make a joke and when to hold a hand...

A brother who in my absence from Florida became a man, and a promising one at that...

A sister-in-law in whose loving hands I am comforted to leave my brother and mother...

A husband and a brother-in-law who do what needs to be done and more, who see, repair, and improve things around the house that have nagged their grieving mother-in-law for years and who scour her home for important paperwork she can't find, whose actions speak love more loudly than any words could do...

Four children who entertain themselves peaceably for five days, with few excursions beyond their grandmother's house, who hug their sorrowful grandmother just when she needs it, and who ride (mostly) contentedly for two ten hour drives in one week...

A mother-in-law who offers whatever help we might need, and truly means it...

An eighty-year old paternal aunt who even in her shaken grief proves as tough and feisty as ever...

A maternal aunt who flew to her sister's side and brought her both comfort and laughter...

A cousin I barely knew who felt like an old friend...

A friend, like a second mother in my youth, and her husband, without whose help, in this and numerous past experiences, our family would have been lost...

Two friends, who fell in love, grew up, and became a family, whose presence at my father's funeral and help watching our children during the funeral, meant more than words can express and whose companionship during a visit the next day will be treasured always...

A man and his wife, parents of the best friend of my youth and of one of the friends mentioned above, who opened their home to our family Sunday afternoon and whose constant love over the changing years has never failed to comfort me...

Old friends of my father, who shared memories and laughter with my family and who felt like family themselves...

Newer friends of my parents, whose love for them is evident in their faces and deeds, and who I trust to continue to uphold my mother in prayer and in action...

Finally, friends here and elsewhere who have sent condolences, shared memories of my dad, and offered prayers for me and for my family, living out the Scripture, "Rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn..."

For all of these portraits of God's love in human form, I am thankful.