In November, I cried over Call the Midwife, The Walking Dead, and an old episode of Numbers. I cried every time someone’s father or grandfather died, knowing that this Thanksgiving, my grandfather wouldn’t be at the table making jokes. He wouldn’t give my kids any suckers. Just a few months after his death, my pain came back to life knowing that our vacations will always be different.

Since Grandpa went to Jesus, I’ve been thinking more about how God wants me to live. Death always reminds us that we are so finite, so limited. And as a follower of Jesus, death reminds me of the price I paid for my redemption, the inheritance that will one day come, and how much I love to hear “well done, my good and faithful servant.” So what should I do now?

My husband will confirm that I am incredibly indecisive. And sometimes they have selective hearing. But now I’m trying to slow down and listen better. I try to ask “God what do you want” more often? I try to say “yes, my lord” instead of “I can’t.”
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