Several times, I got to put my arms around my mother, then my daughter. I was an intergenerational love-sandwich. We called my son in New York and told him we loved him. We told and retold and embellished stories. What bliss.

How could I ask for more? How could I be more thankful? I really couldn’t.

So you see? Even with the loss, all is well in my little world. Anything in this missal that at first sounded like a complaint is really just setting of context, laying in of background. Because just as I set down the dark tones in my paintings before I cast in the brights, the depth in my life can only be seen the same way. The somber and sad things are truly present. They don’t disappear by my wishing and sometimes they make me cry. Sometimes I feel apprehensive about whether they will take over the entire picture. But God in his infinite goodness casts brilliant blessings through my life like light and oh, oh the color and the depth. See how he does it, in nature and in life?