Ellen lives, though she left this earth nearly five years ago, November 24. My daughter has a picture of one of Ellen’s poems displayed in her home. I have memories tattooed into my spirit of Ellen singing loudly and joyfully in my vehicle.

Maybe I keep cars for over a decade because they carry memories. I don’t know. Perhaps just a weird thought about how my kids were sad when I traded my White Ford Explorer. Perhaps the memories of the plethora of women in my Ford Focus, another vehicle I kept for ten years.

I digress. It happens.

I bumped into Ellen’s mom at the nail salon the other day. I suggested we get together one Tuesday or Wednesday evening when she was available. She suggested tonight.

Though I know many who have lost children , I understand we all process grief differently.

Something about the five year anniversary of her death is causing me to pause and pray about meeting her in less than two hours.

Father God, oh Abba,

As I remain in your court in perpetual Thanksgiving and praise…

Still my heart before I go.
Let my words be few,
but my presence be full of Your peace.

Give me eyes to see beyond her pain—
to the places where hope still flickers,
and to the memories that still shine with love.

Remind me that I don’t need to fix what only You can heal.
Let my listening be a refuge,
my smile a reflection of Your kindness,
and my timing in every word be guided by Your Spirit.

As the anniversary of her loss approaches,
wrap her in Your tenderness tonight.
Let her feel seen, remembered,
and somehow lighter when we part.

Use me as a quiet reminder
that she’s not alone—
that love endures,
and that You are still near.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.