(I wrote this last Saturday, the morning after the missing plane incident–and forgot to hit ‘publish’ after the preview.)

The winds are teasing the sheets on the line under blue skies. I delight in the warmth of this day after long days of cold and gray. I could be so snug and smug in this moment– wrapped in the spring breeze . . .

While I can and do enjoy the gifts around me–here in today, I shudder in the reality that there are somewhere wives, mothers,sisters, grandmothers of those 239 lives aboard the downed Malaysian plane weeping in unbelief. I read the list of the countries representing those together for this final journey, and I cry. Tom and I know and love someone from every country on that list.

Young artists aboard– with dreams. The future now gone.

Can I really live today in thanksgiving and purpose without realizing that all of life is temporary? Yes, yes–the very reason I can live with hope today is understanding the brevity of tomorrow.

Beautiful moments come. I smile. I want to live, really live, every inch of my life span. And that means crying with those that are ribboned in sorrow, knowing that life is indeed a mist that vanishes quickly.

So today this journey, NOW– is painted sad and melancholy. And as I live tomorrow, I pray that even in thankfulness and praise, I will remember . . . I never want to step flippantly into a new morning—neither do I want to go to bed lamenting the day.

I love writing about good times, blessings, lessons from the Word and life, but this journey is lived in reality.

Somehow this morning I longed to see you, to touch you, to know you are safe–. But all I can do is to share this moment.

“O Lord, may your unfailing love rest upon us, even as we put our hope in you. Psalm 33: 22