What a difference a year makes. Last year for Father’s Day we went to our cabin. In grief. In drought. In desperate hope that things would be better next year. Here’s a picture of our dock from last year. The next picture is our lake this year.

If a picture is worth a 1000 words I can make this blog post short and sweet.

The God who restores souls also restores mountain lakes.

And mountain meadows…

The meadow is so green this year, and the wildflowers are all back. When I walked this meadow last year it didn’t give under my feet one bit. The ground was hard from lack of rain and my heart was reeling from the shock of losing Anna.

This year the meadow felt like a cushion under my tennis shoes and moss as soft as a pillow covered the ground along with the grass and wildflowers. And I didn’t cry this year in the meadow. I stood there and smiled.

More often now I smile when I think of Anna. Sometimes the tears still hit me, but not like they used to. Smiles hit me more often.

One year of storms has changed the mountains. I keep hearing the drought isn’t over, but that’s hard to believe when you look at Northern California’s mountain lakes now. I remember standing on that dry dock last year praying for God to bring us rain. Praying for God to bring our family healing. Praying for God to end the drought and end our heartache.

And He has. Our family will never be the same, but we can still be full.

I have not seen a sailboat on our lake in years, but as the sun set Saturday night, a lone sailboat drifted into view. Anna was on a summer sailing team and seeing the white sail shimmering in the distance reminded me of her. She isn’t really gone. She’s shimmering in the distance. Someday we will see her again. Heaven is real and Anna is there waiting. Last year I would have cried over this sailing boat, but this year I stood on our dock and grinned.

God has restored more than my mountains.

He’s restored something in me.