Upstairs, on the desk in my office was a DVD loaded with pictures of my Dad. It had been in the same spot for weeks, sitting there beckoning to me. I did just what I used to do as a little girl when my parents would call me away from playing...I ignored it. Somehow in the arranging and re-arranging of the stacks on my desk it kept resurfacing. So much for my avoidance strategy. It just seemed too soon and I knew it would hurt to see Dad's face. But one afternoon last week, the braver part of me grabbed the disc and slipped it into the DVD player.

Guess what? It did hurt. I cried like Dad had just died that day. But it was a good hurt. I'd been avoiding the potential strength of a hurt that might crush me. Instead, I was surprised with a hurt that relieved me. How strange is that? I believe what I experienced was an outpouring of God's grace. Grace that promises to be sufficient and timely.

I'm tucking that moment away in my mind. I might need to pull it out someday when I am wondering if God really cares.