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After a 20 hour drive with our kids, Adam and I were very happy to arrive at my mom’s house in Michigan. I shouldn’t say it that way. The drive wasn’t bad, thanks to the roomy RV Adam’s parents let us borrow for the trip. If anyone gets to complain, it’s Adam, who drove all but three hours of the trip. And my little driving shift happened during the day. Except for one 40 minute power nap, Adam drove straight through the night while the rest of us slept. So my husband’s a rock star and I’m, well… pregnant. But that means I can sleep more without guilt, right?

Pulling up in front of my mom’s house was a wonderful moment. We hadn’t seen her since April and hadn’t been to her house since Christmas. I hope I’m not being melodramatic when I say that my mom’s house is almost sacred to me. In the spring of 2009, my parents finally sold their big Chicago house, and as soon as my baby sister graduated from high school, they moved to their lake house here in Michigan. It was something they’d always wanted to do. But a few months later my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It took the cancer just six weeks to destroy his body. He died in this house and we—my six brothers and sisters, plus two spouses, the grandkids and my mom—are so thankful we were all here together when it happened.

Everyone wondered what would happen to my mom. My parents had been happily married almost 40 years and lived in their Chicago home for 33 years. Then in less than a year they’d sold their house, moved away from all their friends, and then my dad was gone. How would my mom cope without him?

When we first arrived last weekend, I walked slowly through the house. In the winter my mom had all the downstairs windows replaced. This spring she had the hard wood floors refinished and new tile put down in her sun room. Most of the walls have been repainted in the last year and each room is clean and organized. The house has never looked better. It’s still full of my dad. Everywhere you look there are pictures of him and his chair still sits in the same spot. But the house has new life in it now too, my mom’s new life.

No one would have blamed my mom if she’d responded to my dad’s death by climbing into her bed for a few months. My parents were best friends and my mom still misses my dad terribly. But instead of sinking into despair, she poured her energy into loving God, loving her family, and writing a blog, each post ending with scripture. People love her writing. So many in fact, that she recently signed a book deal. She’s still blogging, but now she’s also writing a devotional book for new widows.

God’s grace is all over my mom and He gets the credit for how well she’s doing. But she gets credit too. She hasn’t been easy on herself. When she senses self-pity or jealousy or depression creeping in, she stands firm on God’s promise to take care of her. And then she gets back to work. She has worked hard, so very hard, faithfully writing night after night, long after everyone else is asleep.

When I look around her house, I can’t help but think about how different things could be. My mom could be in a very dark place right now, but she’s not. She’s closer to God than ever. Her home is beautiful—peaceful and full of light—and so is she. I hope that when I enter the next crisis of my life, I can be just a little bit like my mom.