I have met a number of you since the concert.  I hope that to each person I have extended my appreciation for supporting us.

Most people that have talked to me about the new scholarship are thrilled and come up to me with exuberant passion.

I hope I haven’t extinguished that with my reaction.  The truth is, I don’t really know how to react.

Yes, I am thrilled that we raised enough money for sweet Marisa’s name to continue as a lasting legacy.  Yes, I am thrilled that Her name will help others.  Yes, I am thrilled that we actually raised more than 30G in one night.  Yes, I am thrilled that such hard work paid off.  Yes, I am thrilled that yet again, the Christian community witnessed that death doesn’t win.  Yes, I am thrilled that Zion, Jacoba and Zekijah can look back and be blown away with the support they had.  Yes, I am thrilled about all that.

But I am also sad.  Very, very sad.  Deeply grieved that we had to do all this.

Deeply shaken that at the end of the night we had to remember Marisa.  I miss Marisa terribly.  I didn’t want to have to do the concert.  I wanted Marisa to survive cancer. 

But She didn’t.  The concert was five days ago.  I am still shaken.

But I will go to my empty bed like I have done for almost a year now.  And I will get up in the morning and something will happen that will cause me to be re-shaken.  It may be joy.  It may be suffering.

I guess that is one thing about joy and suffering.  They can not cancel each other out.  They must live together.  Sometimes they must live holding hands.

Jacoba, age four, misses her mom right now something fierce.  When she is sad, like tonight, she likes to sleep in my bed.  I am about to crawl into bed with her and when I get to bed, she usually wakes up.  And then she will do what she usually does. 

She will reach out her hand and I will hold it.

And we will fall asleep holding hands.