As I walked the beach in Surfside, Texas, I thought of those we had lost in 2019.

In October, I sat with a dear friend the night her husband died. I held her hand in the bedroom as police officers and others worked in another room nearby.

In November, I carried a poster board full of sweet messages to a family from our youth group. Their sweet Andrew, 12 years young, had left this earth too soon.

In December, I received the text that my childhood best friend’s brother was gone, too. I thought about how much he loved the water and how he would tease me about taking ten million pictures of sand and shells.

I looked at the sand and the waves and thanked the God of the ocean and the sun for all He has given us.

I watched the birds navigate the fog with unwavering certainty. I listened to waves roll in that I could not see. I remembered that He has seen me through times without answers before and He would again.

And now January, a friend lost her battle with breast cancer.

I sat in silence as the words lept from my phone. “She’s gone.”

My word of the year is “Joy”. It seemed cruel.

I sat in silence as the word Joy found a familiar verse in my heart.

“The joy of the Lord is my strength.”

The joy of the Lord. The Lord. Not my joy. His. His joy at one of His beloved sons or daughters coming home. The joy of a race well run. The joy in the stories of kindness and sacrifice and suffering beautifully lived. Joy.

The joy that the heart doesn’t feel, but the intellect reminds in steady deep breaths of thanks and love.

Oh it sounds cliche, but friends… this isn’t our home. Nothing matters except the love you make. Go. Run. Spread love like wildfire until people whisper that you’ve actually gone off the deep end. Then, you will know you’ve done it.