"Grammy, do you love your hummingbird?" Emma's question reminded me of the warm fuzzy love extended to me on Mother's Day from our grandchildren and their parents. Mother's Day fell on May 11 this year, what would have been our son, Mark's thirty-first birthday. Chuck placed flowers in the church to honor me and to remember Mark. We gave the Mark Betters Christian Character and Church Service award to a special young man who grew up in our church and was graduating from high school.

Our kids gathered at our home after church and served a fabulous meal and filled our house with laughter and joy. The grandkids couldn't wait to give me their specially chosen gifts like the hummingbird wind chime and personally prepared cards and pictures! What fun!

In the middle of the happy chaos, I thought about Mark a lot. I miss him. I sometimes mentally disconnect from the noisy conversations that always accompany our family gatherings as I watch our adult children interact and imagine Mark in the mix. I watch the spouses perfectly chosen by God for our children and I wonder what Mark's wife would have brought to the family. I see our grandkids building strong friendships and I imagine the children Mark might have had. And I miss him. And I long for what might have been.

Though not physically present, the reality of our son or Uncle Mark, as the grands call him, is interwoven throughout the fabric of our family life. It's not unusual for one of the grandchildren to ask me a question about Uncle Mark. Every time one of them looks at his picture in my locket and then smiles knowingly at me before running off with the other kids I sense God hugging me. It's easy for them to comment that their mommy cried while singing a worship song in church "because she was thinking about Uncle Mark" or to ask questions about his likes and dislikes. He's almost as real to them as their other uncles and aunts.

Raucous laughter from the adults or a grandchild's request for special attention brings me back from my musings to the present. Laughter bubbles up and washes away the invisible tears in the secret places of my heart when one of the grands gives me an unexpected hug and whispers, "I love you, Grammy!"

Grief teaches me to listen and watch carefully because when I do I get glimpses of the treasures in the darkness that God places in my pathway to remind me that He knows my longing and He's holding me tightly in His grip. He wants me to expect new blessings every morning.

The first week of July is a tough one for us. But God is already sending me treasures in the darkness, riches stored in secret places designed to remind me that He is my God and He calls me by name. I can see them even through tear-filled eyes. It's up to me if I will choose to let God's treasures help turn my heart toward Him or refuse to embrace the love He is sending my way

What treasure is God sending your way, treasure designed especially for you to help turn your heart toward Him? Encourage me this week with your story of God's faithful love.

In His grip,
Sharon