Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.
Hindsight provides a perspective we don’t have when we’re living the moment. Such has been the case as I’ve withstood weeks in the valley after reveling on the mountaintop of the My Focus Story experience.
For roughly a month, from the days of filming to the release of the video and the resultant response, it was as if my heart was constantly singing. I praised God for giving me such a remarkable gift, a reminder that He never loses sight of me or any of His children.
Looking back, I realize the gift wasn’t merely for the 25th anniversary of my husband’s passing. No, the Lord knew I would need the bountiful blessings associated with that event to fortify me for what lay ahead.
Losses, Big and Small
Soon after the video debuted, my 91-year-old father announced it was time to sell the house he and Mom shared for the last 24 years of their nearly 70 years of marriage. Though I knew that day would come after Dad moved into assisted living earlier this year, I didn’t push the issue with him, knowing he’d already lost a lot in the past year. A broken hip led to the death of his beloved wife, and a stroke six months after that took away his freedom to drive and live on his own. We sold one of his cars and then the other.
His directive to get the house ready to put on the market came as both a relief and a stressor. Though necessary, it was a task I’d been dreading, one that felt like another step in disassembling my parents’ lives. My adult daughters came over to select items to keep, and friends provided practical help with packing and moving. Still, the daunting responsibility of going through everything fell squarely on my shoulders as an only child.
So I dutifully entered the valley, determined to carry out the process respectfully and in a way that would honor my parents and their life together. Days and nights ran together as I spent countless hours going through boxes and drawers and cabinets. Restful sleep eluded me. It seemed I was constantly sorting through stuff in my mind, whether awake or asleep.
And each day, my first thought upon waking was, “I have to go do it again.”
My single-minded focus meant suspending the usual ebb and flow of my life. Instead of spending the customary two days each week with my grandchildren, I barely saw them. And other than mowing my tiny patch of grass to avoid letters from the HOA, I didn’t work in my garden for over a month. Things that generally counterbalance the stress in my life weren’t available to me, and there were moments when I didn’t think I would make it to the finish line, the date I agreed to turn things over to the company in charge of the estate sale.
But each morning, I countered the anxiety of those “Oh no!” thoughts with the reminder that God’s mercies are new every morning, and He would be faithful to see me through whatever the day brought (Lamentations 3:22-24).
Likewise, Mom’s life verse, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me (Philippians 4:13), came to mind often as I imagined her encouraging me with one of her signature exhortations, “We can’t give up. We’ve got to hold onto our faith and keep going!” And oh, how I preached truth to myself throughout the lonely hours of sorting, reminding myself that God’s grace is sufficient and His power is made perfect in my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).
Tears and Treasures
Going through all of Mom and Dad’s things generally delivered expected results, i.e., I found what I expected to find. But sometimes, my efforts yielded priceless treasures that elicited delighted exclamations – the tassel from Mom’s high school graduation cap, a photo of my grandfather in his field with his mules and plow, the carriage for the baby doll Mom received for her tenth Christmas.
Other times my finds brought me to tears. Such was the case when I discovered my baby sister’s hospital bracelet and a tiny silver spoon from the funeral home that conducted her services barely eight months after she was born. Mom had drawers full of keepsakes from all stages of my life, but so very few from Mary Jeannette’s brief existence. I imagined her grief at losing her baby and across all the years since, as she wondered how her other daughter might have grown up.
Tears and treasures. Valleys and mountaintops. Such is life on this side of heaven. Regardless of what our days hold, we can rest in God’s promise never to leave or forsake us, knowing that He Who proclaims the end from the beginning will see the good work He began in us to completion (Deuteronomy 31:8; Isaiah 46:9-10; Philippians 1:6).
Dear Lord, no matter how bright our mountaintops or how dark our valleys, please help us never to lose sight of the fact that it is You Who goes before us, making a way, providing all we need, and accomplishing Your purposes in, through, and for us.
Post Script: The lyrics to the beloved hymn, Day by Day, are especially appropriate for the theme of this post. I hope they’ll give you added encouragement.
Day by day, and with each passing moment,
Strength I find to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,
I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.
He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure,
Gives unto each day what He deems best,
Lovingly its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.
Every day the Lord Himself is near me,
With a special mercy for each hour;
All my cares He fain would bear and cheer me,
He whose name is Counsellor and Pow’r.
The protection of His child and treasure
Is a charge that on Himself He laid;
“As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,”
This the pledge to me He made.
Help me then, in every tribulation,
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation,
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,
E’er to take, as from a father’s hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till with Christ the Lord I stand.
 Please see “Twenty-five Years” in Archives, April 2022 for a full recounting of the experience.
 Lyrics by Carolina Sandell Berg; translated by Andrew L. Skoog.