Winter Sunrise

The sun rises behind bare branches and they look beautiful.

In just the right light and at the perfect angle, anything can be lovely.

bare winter branches

It’s true that every living thing needs rest.  Every working part must be oiled.

And while winter can be hard and heartless and cold and cruel, it is also space and time for re-creation.

If I only look harder I can already see tiny buds of springtime promise on the tips of branches overhead.

Death is winter.

Cold, hard, gray.  Every lovely thing fallen and dry underfoot.

A season of rest-not chosen, unwelcome, resisted.

But rest just the same.

Yet the sun still shines and spreads warmth and light on even these bare branches.

winter sunrise pines and zeke filter

After such a long time can the sap still rise?

Is there life left here?

Will spring come again and flowers bloom?

I’m counting on it.


It will all happen so fast, in a blink, a mere flutter of the eye. The last trumpet will call, and the dead will be raised from their graves with a body that does not, cannot decay. All of us will be changed!  We’ll step out of our mortal clothes and slide into immortal bodies, replacing everything that is subject to death with eternal life.  And, when we are all redressed with bodies that do not, cannot decay, when we put immortality over our mortal frames, then it will be as Scripture says:

Life everlasting has victoriously swallowed death.
     Hey, Death! What happened to your big win?
    Hey, Death! What happened to your sting?

Sin came into this world, and death’s sting followed. Then sin took aim at the law and gained power over those who follow the law.  Thank God, then, for our Lord Jesus, the Anointed, the Liberating King, who brought us victory over the grave.

My dear brothers and sisters, stay firmly planted—be unshakable—do many good works in the name of God, and know that all your labor is not for nothing when it is for God.

I Corinthians 15:52-58 VOICE


Author: Melanie

I am a shepherd, wife and mother of four amazing children, three that walk the earth with me and one who lives with Jesus. This is a record of my grief journey and a look into the life I didn't choose. If you are interested in joining a community of bereaved parents leaning on the promises of God in Christ, please like the public Facebook page, "Heartache and Hope: Life After Losing a Child" and join the conversation.

5 thoughts on “Winter Sunrise”

  1. I’m so sad. I’m so tired. I miss my son so much. It’s been just over 4 years since I lost him. Two years before his death he asked for help. He was suffering from depression. We had no idea. We fought this hideous disease for two years before he lost the battle and took his own life. He was suffering so much emotional pain that becomes so physical. He lost hope. He overdosed on his medications.

    My only child, my only son. I loved him more than anything in this world. He was my light and my joy. How can this be. It’s a nightmare.

    I hate the D word. I don’t like even saying he is d—d. I can’t even write it. It brings so much pain. I hate that he is in the grave. I hate that word too.

    I was crying so hard. I could hardly breathe. I have to catch my breath. Blow my nose. My head hurts. My nose is stuffed up. Only to cry again.

    I heard your email arrive. Vibrating on my phone. Such heartfelt words. Reading that scripture. Where is that blink of an eye. Where is that trumpet. I want my son back. I want to see him again. To hold him. To take away his pain. To take away my pain.

    Thank you for sharing your heart. Your words. So very sorry for the loss of your son only 4 years ago. My son was 32. He would be 36 now. How old was your son?

    May God bless you. May you have moments of peace.

    Sent from my iPhone


    Liked by 1 person

    1. I know your pain. You are not alone. It has not yet been 3 years since my son, Ryan, died by suicide at the age of 39. He spent 21 years fighting depression until he just couldn’t fight any longer. We marched alongside him, but it wasn’t enough. My heart bleeds and bleeds and bleeds. So many moments feel like yesterday; so many moments feel like a lifetime ago. You are not alone.
      I am so grateful for Melanie’s posts.

      Liked by 1 person

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