Fall Break 2023

Another fall break has come and gone. While driving west on 32, I noticed the most resplendent displays of golden-orange foliage that fell like confetti in the autumn breeze. It led me to reflect on last year's fall break, when Joe and I ventured south to Brown County, Indiana. Our trip was marked by bitter snowfall that halted our hikes, overpriced chili dogs, and closed restaurant after closed restaurant. I journaled this one morning:

"Our early morning search for an open restaurant was fruitless, and biscuitless, and coffeeless, and literally-everything-else-less. Not only did the shops and restaurants close at 5, 3 of them didn't open until 11 and the rest were closed on Tuesdays. We slugged sleepily back to the Inn and settled for two granola bars which I had thrown into my duffel. I think we both feel a bit discouraged."

And here we are one year later. I would do just about anything to have unopened restaurants be the primary trial of our lives. We spent the break in Crawfordsville, mostly hunkered by Mom's hospice bedside. Our days consisted of making sure her medicine was administered on time, changing her bedding, massaging her paralyzed legs and praying over her ailing body while she slept. During the breaks, we entertained visitors, replaced dying flower deliveries with the most up-to-date drop offs, and tried, often ineffectively, to get rest. 

There were blissful moments, that much is certain. Abundant reminiscing. Painting pumpkins. Laughing with visitors, holding Mom's hand. Asking for her advice about faith and life. Watching football. Loading her into a wheelchair for the most wonderful neighborhood lap, and being cheered on by friends and neighbors every step. Family time. The slowness and stillness that comes when you realize you have to cherish every second with your people. And the church ladies' casseroles...don't even get me started. 🤤


There is still grief that hits like hurricanes -- a heaviness that could crush me, if I let it. But there is also so much goodness, both in this life and the life to come. Our unmet expectations, shattered dreams, and the shocking reality of Mom's illness makes us cling desperately to the God who created us, knows every hair on our heads, and loves us to the point of death -- even death on a cross. We feel His presence as we trust that He is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Not only is He near, He gives many good gifts: time. Togetherness. Walking laps on October days. Casserole. 

And it only gets better! This broken, fallen world is not the end of our story. We have an eternal hope and future beyond all comparison. With God. Without suffering. Forever. I wrote this last year, after a mildly disappointing Brown County getaway:

"I guess these grievances are God's way of guiding me to long for the Kingdom to come. Heaven IS real, and we have only to rejoice that there will be a day with no tears or disappointment. Abundant feasting will be ours and chili dogs will never cost so much, and we won't even expect those to satisfy us because we will be in the presence of GOD!"

If overpriced chili dogs are meant to make me long for Heaven, how much more does this crushing cancer diagnosis?! "Indeed, we groan in this tent, desiring to put on our heavenly dwelling" (2 Cor. 5:2). But may this groaning be a good thing -- a sweet and sacred reminder that Christ died to give us eternity with Him, if we'll make Him our Savior. Whether it be chili dogs or cancer, this life on earth is marked by trials. We can let them crush us, or we can let them fix our eyes on Heaven. I pray these bitter disappointments and the heartbreak of this life would help us long for the place of glory with the One who saved our souls. 

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