My daughter flies home tomorrow.
I'm exhausted in every way possible after experiencing the entire gamut of emotions, but I need to write while it's all still fresh in my mind. There are thousands of stories to be told from today, hundreds I could tell you myself, but here are the ones I can't stop thinking about.
My daughter's visit meant visiting the grave, where we read Psalm 90 and sang "In Christ Alone."
Attending an All Saints Day service came next. The Word tells us to focus upward.
A glad acceptance of hard things opens the way for glory and resurrection.
The Planets went off like flashes of lightning and peals of thunder.
It was an amazing performance.
It was day of Scripture, prayer, praise, worship, and music. "All I care is to know Christ, to experience the power of his resurrection, and to share his sufferings, in growing conformity with his death" (Phil. 3:10). The miracle will come. We do not know the day or the hour. But "his servants shall worship him; they shall see him face to face, and bear his name on their foreheads. There shall be no more night, nor will they need the light of lamp or sun. For the Lord God will give them light. And they shall reign forevermore" (Rev. 22:3-5).
The fragrance of the balm of Gilead permeated our day. In the story of Lazarus, men and women in sorrow and helplessness have found solace and peace. Let us then go gently with the Shepherd through the Valley of the Shadow. For the best fruit is always what is produced by the best-pruned branch.