BY DAWN REED

When my family gets together, we love to reminisce. We get loud-really loud. Each of us tries to speak over the other, often interrupting to input their version of a story told countless times before. My nephew says we tell the same stories over and over. To that, I say, “So?”

This week, my beloved and I visited my sister and her family. It was the same-only louder. And so fun. The laughter was good medicine. We recalled our first trips to the beach, our first expensive meal there in the early 1980s (and all the dumb things we said to the server), going to the lake with my grandfather, and decades of memories since. We were so jazzed at the end of the evening it was hard to fall asleep. We wanted to squeeze every moment out of the time together.

Conversations often turned to our precious mother. How we miss her. We spoke in quieter tones sharing tender stories of her love, courage, and encouragement to us and so many. We retell, with tears, the miracles God worked for all of us. Red Sea-sized miracles and we cry a little. We remembered her words and pondered our last times together before she went to heaven. At her sudden passing, our hearts hurt immensely, yet we were comforted by knowing she was with Jesus. We know we will see her again in heaven one day. It was what she had taught us. Now we cling to that truth.