The gifts are all opened. The breakfast casserole and monkey bread have been devoured, and everyone has gone back to bed. Including my wife.
This is for those who are grieving this Christmas. You are not alone.
Three weeks ago, I lost my sister to metastatic breast cancer. A week after her funeral, my dad passed away from dementia.
As I pulled into a rainy parking lot, I whispered a prayer for our time together, because I know that sometimes a meeting can change everything.
Jesus rose on Sunday. We rise on Monday. A chance to start over. To begin again.
We’ve been told that we are made in God’s image, yet we are light years apart. Sometimes I just wish he were more like me.
Maybe the moment you flip God the bird is the exact moment he looks into your eyes and says, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
God is either a dream come true or an absolute nightmare. At times I’ve wondered.
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This is about my sister. This is FOR my sister. She has stage four metastatic breast cancer.