Today we Tennesseans are getting a taste of real winter. Snow is whispering its descent to earth, gently piling over the dry grass.   The last time I experienced such a wintry day was in February, the week my mother died. Days earlier she had written to me that the freshly fallen snow was so pretty. More lovely snow fell a few days after she died. And now, it’s falling again. It is still pretty. In Decembers past, I would feel old tugs of nostalgia’s magic as I looked past my Christmas tree at the window to watch it fall. Though I do not wish to dwell on the happy memories of the unrecoverable...

As I took a walk on Thanksgiving morning before the family came over for a holiday breakfast, it suddenly occurred to me that we had no centerpiece for the table.     I couldn’t help but think about last Thanksgiving; Mom was with us. We cooked dinner together. Canadian geese bellowed outside; the stereo sang inside. The table was set and we had our choice of floral arrangements to use as the centerpiece. Several people had sent them to us, expressing their care as we prayed that Mom would be healed.   As I walked past dried weeds and berry-laden bushes, I thought that perhaps I could...

a poem   tonight so thankful for You whose lashes healed me whose nakedness clothed me with salvation whose innocence removed my guilt You unchanging Rock midst my tumultuous emotions Shelter that graces me with peace and security the broad path that keeps my feet from slipping so thankful for the family You gave me for Dad whose character is like diamonds in the coal of night for sisters who understand, talk, laugh, grieve with me for 37 years with beautiful Mom for her parents— lights, love, warmth for friends from all seasons of life so thankful for Your abundance, extravagant in forgiveness,...

On many occasions, the bright colors of autumn trees have cast their glow against deep gray skies and chilly weather, outshining the gloom of a rainy day. But today—this week—the weight of ashen clouds seems to smother the beauty of the changing trees. This afternoon I looked through the rain-speckled windshield at a palette of leaves, but the heaviness in my heart illuminated the darkness of the sky. One year ago yesterday, we found out that cancer had made its way to my mom’s brain. The first week of November 2009 was filled with shock and terror. I can’t help but remember the emotion of that week,...

The other day when I walked out of my office, the cool, crystal-clear air smelled like a Pennsylvania autumn—a breezy freshness with a touch of smokiness and a trace of cold that might be on its way. Just a couple weekends ago, I was there running a 5K with my sisters in memory of our mom.   And almost a year ago now, I was there for the month of November, spending most of my time with my mom. I treasure and mourn, remember and long for that month, praying that the details of those days will return more fully to my mind.     I drove Mom to her appointments, saw the sealed, metal door...