Every family values its own history, and pictures are a good way to preserve a specific moment in time. Over the years Nate and I dragged our kids to so many photographers’ studios our rooms could have been papered with the pictures. One dinner guest said, “You don’t have any art on your walls, only pictures of your kids.” But that was art to us.

We also loved “artwork” from other families, and Christmas cards were the best source. I’ve saved every photo card ever sent to our home, and each one is mounted in the albums.

Our own Christmas cards always included a photograph, despite every single photo shoot being difficult. I would work hard putting outfits together to coordinate everybody, but no one seemed to appreciate it. I remember the year I bought four matching sweaters, one for each of our boys. As we walked from the car to the studio, Nelson said, “Don’t ask me to wear twin stuff like this again. I feel like a freak.” Despite the opposition, we kept at it.

When looking at photos of other peoples families, I’m convinced (despite smiles and an orderly arrangement) that each picture represents a great deal of parental effort and family tension. The more people in the picture, the harder the task.

Over 37 years of picture-taking, our kids have long-since accepted the ordeal of family photographs. Although they always objected, in the end everybody would cooperate. But since Nate died, we’ve all gained a fresh appreciation for picture-taking. When we look at the photo we took last October, our last with Nate, we’re exceedingly thankful for it. As we assembled to take that shot, we knew it’d be our last opportunity to picture our family with him, and there wasn’t a single objection. I love looking at that picture. Despite the heavy heart beneath every smile, including Nate’s, it’s a treasure.

These days photo-taking has changed dramatically because of digital cameras. Pictures come easily and have less value than in the past. What hasn’t changed, however, is a desire to somehow preserve relationships or encapsulating a moment by taking family pictures.

This year at Afterglow there was no opposition to the family photo idea, even though it was a challenge with five babies and their non-synced sleep-schedules. But this time all of us have been impacted by how tentative life can be, and none of us can say if the family might change dramatically before we get a chance to take another picture. And when it does change, will it be an addition or a subtraction? We don’t know that, either.

Jesus holds the keys to life… and death. He’s in charge, not us, and he hasn’t guaranteed tomorrow. So while we’re busy making the most of today, we should take lots of pictures.

“His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.” (Luke 1:50)

Other resort guests walking past our cabin here at Afterglow Lake have heard a good deal of crying coming through our screens. Most of it has been from little children, but that’s because adult crying isn’t usually done in the same all-out, open-mouthed way.

There’s a fascinating verse in Psalms that speaks of God collecting our tears in a bottle. During the 42 days when Nate had cancer, quite a few of the letters and cards we received quoted this passage.

I’m a visual person who appreciates the thousands of word pictures God tucked into the Bible. A bottle full of tears is a potent image of several things: God’s nearness to anyone who’s upset to the point of tears, and his mysterious ability that can somehow collect literal tears.

I’ve thought about this bottle in reference to all our family crying as we’ve grieved for Nate during these last ten months, wondering if this verse could possibly be literal. Many would say, “Nonsense.” Of course God can do anything he wants, because he knows no bounds. Even the tears that slide down our cheeks and are whisked away by a tissue or an available sleeve could easily reappear in God’s bottle if that was his intent.

If it is a literal statement, what might that bottle look like? Because the scriptural word for it is singular, it would have to be one giant bottle! What could God possibly want with those tears? They’re salty, as all of us can testify, having caught them with our tongues as they’ve run past our mouths. They are also clear.

According to Revelation (22:1), heaven will have a “river of life” running from the throne of God, “as clear as crystal.” Is it possible God plans to use our tears to create this supernatural river? Could it be a “salt water river?”

Just when we become completely speechless over such a possibility, we get another inexplicable fact from the same verse. It says God records each tear in a book. Such detailed record-keeping is imponderable, but we’ve always known the Lord was good with detail. He keeps track of all our sorrows (same verse) and cares deeply about our suffering.

Today several of us spent eight hours with grandbabies, much of it trying to soothe tearful crying. Mid-afternoon I grabbed 30 minutes alone to sit among the tall pines next to Afterglow’s small beach. I brought my Bible, wanting to listen to God through its pages, and part of what he asked me to think about was the bottled-tears verse.

Recently a widow friend said, “No one likes a weeping widow.”

I understand her point. As we get close to the one year anniversary of Nate’s death, people expect grieving to conclude. Today God was saying, “Don’t worry. I don’t see your tears that way but will continue to take them from you and ‘own them’ myself.” I appreciated this tender word from my loving God, especially this week as I’m missing Nate at Afterglow Lake.

Does God collect and record the tears of even a tantruming two year old or an overtired baby? I believe he does.

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” (Psalm 56:8)

Family vacations can be hectic, sometimes leaving people in need of another vacation when they get home. With multiple babies on our trip, going anywhere  is a big deal and includes intensive preparation beforehand and extensive clean-up afterwards. Even getting out to church this weekend would have been a major ordeal, so we voted unanimously to have church at home.

A Saturday evening service timed to take place after our five little people were “put away” was the best option, and we began making plans for the service as soon as we arrived at Afterglow. Nelson rose to lead and assigned tasks to each of his siblings. No one deferred.

We shared a simple meal in preparation for our service, then between the spaghetti and the cake, moved to the living room for church. Adam opened the meeting with prayer, after which Katy and Klaus led us in singing, with Klaus accompanying on his guitar. Hans and Linnea took turns giving “a word,” Hans from Luke 19 and Linnea from 1 Thessalonians 5, and Lars and Louisa both read Scripture in conjunction with what was said. Nelson finished with a meaningful communion service using home-baked rolls and apple juice served by Louisa. Birgitta wrapped it all up with a benediction prayer.

With all of us gathered, I took the opportunity to talk about our revised family, dwelling on the completeness of it as it is now, as its been this week at Afterglow: minus Nate but plus three babies. It was difficult to say it out loud, and it didn’t happen without tears. But the truth of our new God-arranged family is the truth we are all in the process of trying to believe. We want to accept it, and as times passes, we will.

The fact is, our family will continue to change, as every family does. Losing Nate was not the last change that will be made. The thought of another subtraction is awful, and we hope it doesn’t happen any time soon, but the thought of additional family members coming along through marriage or children is lovely. Only God knows the details, and we are trusting fully in his plans for us.

As we bowed to pray in preparation for our communion service with the purpose of coming clean before the Lord, my mind filled with one thought: God is in our midst.

The ten of us sat in a circle during our simple home-church, talking about him, singing for him and praying to him. We weren’t focused on our group as much as on him. I believe he was with us in a dramatic way last night, receiving our praise, forgiving our sins and answering our requests. He has his hand on each of us as individuals and on our family as a unit. There is nothing to fear, and it’ll all work out OK.

But with him in our midst, it couldn’t turn out any other way.

“Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” (Matthew 18:20)