I lost a good friend this week. He was well into the winter of his life and was ready, I think, to be released from a body that had become a prison for a bright and young spirit. Nevertheless, those who love him will miss him, as will I. But blessings come in the saddest of times. When my husband first became ill, we both wanted him to live at any cost. We prayed for a big miracle. It soon became apparent that a big miracle was not in God’s plan for us. Rather than becoming bitter or angry with God, we started counting the small miracles. There have been so many that I can’t begin to remember them all, but we received of these tender mercies every single day of his illness. It helped us to trust that things were in the hands of the Lord. Somehow, that made it easier to bear them. This is my wish for this family; tender mercies every single day.