Driving home tonight, I passed a car much like the one my son used to drive. (This happens a lot. Who knew that the red Cavalier circa 1999 is a popular car in this part of Ohio?) I scrutinized the driver; I always do.
"Maybe it will be Max", my irrational heart thought. (Of course it wasn't. It never is. I know he's dead. I'm not crazy.)
Then I asked God to protect that young man on the drive to his destination so that his mother would never know the pain of losing him.
(Holidays are hard for bereaved parents. If you have one in your life, please read this powerful essay.)
Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
"Maybe it will be Max", my irrational heart thought. (Of course it wasn't. It never is. I know he's dead. I'm not crazy.)
Then I asked God to protect that young man on the drive to his destination so that his mother would never know the pain of losing him.
(Holidays are hard for bereaved parents. If you have one in your life, please read this powerful essay.)
Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
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