Yesterday I was reading an e-mail from a family that has also been punched with cancer. 

The mom’s name is Delaney and she is gorgeous.

Just like Marisa. 

I don’t know the family well, but our paths are similiar in some ways.  Delaney and Paul have three children, two girls and a boy.

Just like Marisa. 

Delaney, the mom, battled stage IV breast cancer.

Just like Marisa.

I read that they have experienced some kick ass news that Delaney’s chemotherapy has been successful and that there is now NO evidence of disease.

Unlike Marisa.


So when I read the e-mail I cried.  I cried for them.  Tears of joy.  I wept/rejoiced that their children Rachel, Caleb and Elysha get to watch their mom’s hair and life grow.  I rejoiced that Paul gets to sleep beside Delaney.  And that Paul gets to introduce Delaney to strangers.  And that he doesn’t have to tell people that ‘she died of cancer’.

And I cried because all those things are something that I can’t do.

When I was crying, Jacoba (almost 4) came in the room.  She saw me crying.  I didn’t hide it from her.

She asked me why I was doing that.  I told her that I was sad that mommy died.

She said “stop doing that”.


Then this morning as we were all in the van driving to church, Jacoba asked me again why I was crying yesterday.  I told her that I was crying because I miss mommy.  Then Zion asked what happened.  I told him. 

He told me he missed mommy too.

Then he gave me his prescription for the day.  He said,

“You are happy mommy is in heaven, but you are sad she died right?”

What beautiful, honest theology.