Brian Maloy

It has been three months and one week since the fire. In that time, Brian has taken the lead on updates, while I have done what comes naturally—processing much of it internally.

Calling this season suffering feels extreme in some ways, especially when we think of others who have walked through deeper valleys of grief and sorrow. But this is our grief, our story, and it has stretched and shaped us in ways we never expected. Grief cannot be compared or categorized—it is deeply personal.

For our family, December 16 is now etched onto our calendar. It was a day filled with joy that ended in tragedy. And yet, even as we remember the loss, we also see how this day marks the beginning of a season woven with both deep sorrow and incredible grace. The past months have been filled with ebbs and flows, moments of mourning, and glimpses of joy. Grief surprises you, but I also think we forget the surprise that joy can bring too.

This is what I know, 97 days later: God’s goodness does not change just because our grief is big. In fact, His goodness is magnified in our weakness, in our waiting, and in our sorrow. He has not abandoned us; He never changes. He is steadfast, and He is good.

"Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever." — Hebrews 13:8 (LSB)
"Oh, taste and see that Yahweh is good; How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!" — Psalm 34:8 (LSB)

This has been a season of slowness—of waiting and wondering. And yet, in those quiet moments, we have found something unexpected: a deeper awareness of God’s presence. In the stillness, we are reminded that His goodness is not dependent on our circumstances. He is steady, faithful, and true. And that brings great joy to those who love Him.

My Sunday School teacher (Brian 🙂) reminded me this morning that our prayer through all of this has been to suffer with purpose—to walk through this trial in a way that brings honor and glory to the God who loves us endlessly and perfectly. Suffering, when surrendered to Him, is never wasted. It refines, it deepens our dependence, and it points us to the greater hope we have in Christ. And in that, there is joy, right? We mourn, but we also rejoice.

“And not only this, but we also boast in our afflictions, knowing that affliction brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope.” — Romans 5:3-4 (LSB)

And that is the hope we cling to: we do not suffer as those who have no hope. Our hope is alive because our Savior lives.

No matter how heavy the sorrow, no matter how long the road, Jesus is greater. This much we know to be true.

“These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.” — John 16:33 (LSB)