The wind has picked up. Tree branches are whipping wildly; rain pelts the windows in sheets. Safe on the inside, my finger traces the watery paths slipping and sliding down glass. An explosion of brilliant lightning cuts through the blackened sky. Oddly, I am comforted by the storm.

"Peace I leave with you; peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid" (John 14:27).

Emotions surge as I look at my aunt’s pale face, white bandages swathed around and around her head. Swollen eyes, unmoving body, ever still … ever still. Her courage is beyond my comprehension. Her determination to live wraps itself in and around, in and around my heart … leaves me short of breath, gasping from grief.

"You heard me say, ‘I am going away and I am coming back to you.’ If you loved me, you would be glad that I am going to the Father, for the Father is greater than I" (John 14:28).

Memories bounce vividly behind my closed lids. I am 8, spending the night with my aunt. We bake cookies; we paint our nails sheer shades of pink. We play cards. I am a terrible card player. Ever with me, ever patient, beautiful smile, hardy laughter—my aunt—loved, loved, loved. Another glance toward the bed; my heart weeps. I stare out the window. Slowly, slowly, the darkness shifts from black to gray. Tree branches dance with the dawn as the sun stretches across the sky. Raindrops drip, drip, drip—effortless artistry from God’s hand. I wait.

"I have told you these things; so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world" (John 16:33).

A single ray slides silently through the dusky room, tiptoes to the bed. I watch as my aunt is bathed within a golden, glittering ray of sun. The gate to my soul opens, and is filled. I cannot look away. She breathes in and out, in and out. Eyes closed, her hand reaches for mine. Hope leaps; tears slide down my face. I pray.

Jody Gust