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Three years. 36 months. 156 weeks. 1,095 days. Three years but it feels like just yesterday and yet a lifetime ago all at the same time.

Three years ago, our Lord called Norm to his eternal home where I believe with all my heart that he heard the words: “Well done, my beloved son. Welcome home.”

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you”
John 14:27a (ESV)

What comfort and peace those words bring, even though these past three years have been the hardest of my life. Every fiber of my being aches for him in too many ways to count. Yet, even in the heartache, I am deeply thankful—thankful that he is now in the very presence of Jesus.

I am thankful for:

• a life well lived and a love well shown,
• the time we shared and the family we built together,
• the way he loved me, believed in me, and saw strength in me that I could not see in myself,
• his devotion as a father who loved our children well,
• the Godly values and principles he instilled in them by example,
• the countless other ways he blessed our lives.

So much to be thankful for.

I am thankful for his life, his love, his leadership, his laughter, his legacy.

And above all, I am thankful for his personal relationship with Jesus Christ, a relationship so beautifully reflected in his everyday life. Norm leaned on Jesus, loved Jesus, worshiped Jesus, and served Him with all his heart. Because of that faith, I have complete confidence that Norm has spent these last three years in sweet fellowship with our Savior.

And one day, I will join him there, and we will worship Jesus together, in spirit and in truth. But until then, I still have work here to do.

Three years. 36 months. 156 weeks. 1,095 days.

It’s hard to believe how long it has been since I last kissed his lips, hugged his neck, heard his deep voice, or gazed into those beautiful blue eyes filled with so much love. In some ways, it feels like it was just yesterday—and in others, like a lifetime ago.

So much to be thankful for, so much to miss.

Yet time continues to march forward, whether we’re ready or not. Hours turn into days, days into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Because of the conversations Norm and I had before he became ill, I know how he would want me to approach the time I have left.

He would want me to live—truly live—and not just exist but embrace life to the fullest. To see the beauty in every day, to tackle challenges head-on, to walk with bold faith and clarity of heart. He wouldn’t want me weighed down by grief, but to keep an eternal perspective. He would remind me that, while I will see him again one day, my story here is not finished. There is still life for me to live and work for to me to do.

But even more important than what Norm would want for me is what God wants for me. God still has a plan and a purpose for my life. Norm’s passing did not catch Him off guard. He isn’t scrambling to fill in the blanks of my story or rewriting it because things unexpectedly got off track and didn’t go as planned.

The life I am living is the story He is writing. This is the tapestry He is weaving—every thread of beauty and pain, healing and hurt, I believe all of it will come together to create an incredible masterpiece, for His glory and my good.

“And we know that for those who love God, all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose.”
Romans 8:28 (ESV)

Heavenly Father, there are so many broken and hurting hearts that need a healing touch from You. So many that need reminders that You walk with them, You carry them, and that even though life is messy and feels so hard it won’t always be this way. One day we will be able to see the beauty You create from the wreckage. Help us to hold onto You and keep an eternal perspective. In Jesus name, Amen