Sleep was not on the agenda last night. Not much of it anyway.

I watched the sunrise this morning. Standing in the dining room, golden light spilled through the windows. It was beautiful. It was bittersweet. Mom loved the sunrise. A few minutes later, the sun slipped behind the clouds and it was dark again. The last few days have been like the sunrise this morning. Filled with moments of beautiful memories of Mom… And filled with moments when it hurts to even breathe. I was reminded of another song that Mom loved this morning.

“Then came the morning, night turned into day;

The stone was rolled away, hope rose with the dawn.

Then came the morning, shadows vanished before the sun,

Death had lost and life had won, for morning had come.”

I have hope. Some moments I hang on to that hope by a tenuous thread, but it’s still there. I have hope for the same reason that Mom would if the situation had been reversed, because of my faith. Mom was a woman of incredible faith. I pray that someday I’ll have even half the faith she had, but for now, my tiny mustard seed of faith is enough. I survive moment by moment, only by the grace of God. Mom would remind me that God told us “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Cor. 2:9) She was right, His grace is enough, and when the next moment without her seems like more than I can bear, God will grant me more grace, and I’ll take another breath.