What do you say to a 33-year-old single mother and her 17-year-old son as she sits in a Hospice House, knowing the end is near? She used to be in my youth group. In fact, when I started, she was 16 and a few weeks away from giving birth to that son.

We talked about her health. Tumor. Failed liver. Failing kidneys. Ugh.

We laughed about old youth group pranks. “Remember the time when…”

We read a bit of of the Bible. “But our citizenship is in heaven, and we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies, so that they will be like his glorious body.” (check out Philippians 3) Can’t wait for that body. No tumors. Everything works the way it should.

We prayed. Holding the shaking hand of a woman too young to die – and the hand of her son – takes all the trite-ness out of any prayer.

As I drove away, I wondered if I did, said, or prayed the right things. Then I pulled around the corner and there before me was Mount Rainier shooting up toward the heavens on a crystal clear spring day. I could almost hear God saying, “I created this majestic mountain. I painted this sky blue. Don’t worry about Mandy. I made her too…and I love her more.”

And in that moment, I rested and gave thanks to a loving, good Creator, who is present – for me and for Mandy.