Thoughts of my grandmother come unbidden and I smile.  I should really give her a call, I think, trying to remember the last time we spoke.  A second passes and my memories crash down on me.  There will be no phone call, not tonight, not ever.  She is no longer here and although she died a year ago, there have been moments in my life that I forget she’s gone.  And the thundering realization breaks my heart wide open every time.  I want to hear her voice so badly, my soul aches and my heart feels like it’s collapsing upon itself.

This–this vast emptiness I feel–this is heartache, heartbreak, and love all rolled into one.  It’s through this tearful heartache that I find a salty, curious hope: that I may crave conversation with my God as much as I yearn for it with her.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. ~1 Corinthians 13:7


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