Dear Ones,

OH THE BEAUTY AND SWEETNESS OF RIPE PEACHES! After all the pruning, watering, spraying, thinning, and inspecting, they finally arrive in all their glory! So too, the long process of making our lives fruitful sometimes seems endless, but the promises come true! The end result is worth the pain, the pruning, thinning, the struggle to survive, and the wait.

As I track this process, I find that writing blogs isn’t for the faint of heart! Laying thoughts and experiences bare—naked and vulnerable—can intimidate even the bravest. In my last post, I explored the first Beatitude, “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” and promised to unpack one Beatitude each week. But as Proverbs reminds us, “We make our plans, but the Lord directs our steps.” Sure enough, life’s distractions and the tyranny of the urgent derailed my schedule—according to GOD’s plan.

Moving to Reedley, California, into a Christian high-school community after marrying a zealous Bible teacher, plunged me headfirst into the deep end of this cultural pool.

For this introvert—still navigating the lingering effects of childhood polio—quiet reflection is essential. Yet here I find myself at the epicenter of nonstop noise and commotion: football, basketball, and volleyball games… waffle parties in our home for sixty-two seniors… umpteen graduation parties, prom, graduation itself with my husband giving the address, and the list goes on.

The second Beatitude is: “Blessed are those who mourn,” together with its promise, “For they shall be comforted.”

Who has time to mourn? What are we even mourning when our calendars overflow? Why do I feel like crying but can’t quite pinpoint the reason?

Despite the noise, God meets me in my prayer journal and on my almost-daily walks through peach orchards. In these quiet places, He calms my racing mind… at least until my impetuous husband spins me off toward the next event. Twenty vivacious teenagers at a time fill our kitchen while my sister-in-law and I scramble to make waffles, and my husband joyfully snaps photos. Today, it was a spontaneous lunch party for eight senior girls we’ve been mentoring weekly all year. All wonderful blessings!

Yet mourning still finds its way in, even amid the joy and activity.

Even subconsciously, I’ve mourned leaving my Spokane home rich with memories: my children, grandchildren, dear friends, our little country church, and my beloved women’s Bible study group. Jesus said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Knowing that feelings of loss would come was one thing; experiencing them is something entirely different. And we know the enemy tempts us most when we are vulnerable.

Falling asleep and waking under a cloud of heaviness opened my eyes to the spiritual battle waging in and around me. Mourning often takes on a life of its own as it winds through the five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—often attributed to Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. These stages aren’t linear, and we might revisit them more than once.

I’ve circled through those stages more than once, and now—after ten months—I’m finally arriving at a more contented and grateful acceptance.

Jesus promised that those who mourn will be comforted. I’m slowly entering the sweetness of that promise. My dear husband, having also lost his wife after fifty-two years of marriage, has walked with me gently through my processing. We both came into this second marriage with hope, thinking it would rise to the strength and vitality of our firsts. But it doesn’t—especially not at seventy-six and eighty years of age. We’re not eighteen and twenty-five anymore. Like it or lump it! Gut-punch of a reality check. We’re not only mourning spouses, family, friends, familiar routines, and past lives—we’re mourning old age itself!

Yet—God is faithful. He keeps His promises. And wonder of wonders—His comfort comes.

We have become a miracle of comfort to each other, despite the process of change, loss, and remarriage. As we surrender to this new season and come to acceptance, our love deepens. It’s profound in the sense that nothing earthly is holding us together anymore—not youth, beauty, strength, stamina, exotic vacations, or perfection. Only God’s power—and our abiding commitment to love, honor, and cherish one another through it all.

To be held in the arms of someone who chooses to love me, not because I’ve earned it with youthful beauty or vivaciousness, but simply because God drew us together and made a covenant between us—that is rich indeed.

God has also gifted me with a new life, an additional family, and a new community filled with kind, loving, accepting people who have made my life fuller and richer than it could have been otherwise.

In God’s upside-down kingdom, mourning isn’t just sorrow—it’s a doorway to comfort.

Counting my blessings brings a deep consolation. Late at night, when insomnia strikes—often from too much neurological stimulation—I slip into my journal. In that hush, the Comforter whispers through His living Word. I’ve even found myself thanking God for sleeplessness, because those wee hours are when I truly listen.

Recently, my Bible study leader sent us a message that struck me deeply:

ENDURANCE
Isn’t about being strong all the time.
It’s about TRUSTING GOD when you’re tired,
SHOWING UP when it’s hard,
And knowing there’s PURPOSE in the pressure.
His grace will carry you.
KEEP GOING!

We must carve out time—even in our busiest seasons—to grieve our losses, acknowledge our sin, and savor the sweet comforts we so often miss. We rush past healing when we don’t pause. Let’s daily cast our cares on Him—receiving His forgiveness, cleansing, and healing. Like daily manna. Like sweet, ripe fruit in the fullness of time.

May the fruitfulness of God’s comfort and blessing rest on each of you as you mourn, trust, and find strength in Him in this upside-down kingdom.

With love and gratitude,
MarJean