Faith | In 2025 God’s promise springs forth with renewed hope

It was a rough summer.

My father passed away, which wasn’t unexpected given his health in the last few years, but the death of a parent is something no one is ever really prepared for. The untimely death of a cousin I’d spent Christmases with growing up was followed by the sudden loss of a beloved auntie. Our precious family pet of 14-years crossed the Rainbow Bridge shortly after our son returned to college.

So, yeah, it was a rough summer.

I’ve experienced grief in my life a few times up to this point. And while the heaviness of it is a load to bear, I know how to work through it for myself: lots of downtime, reading, praying, journaling and walks in nature.

Everyday. Same routine. Until something in me starts to lighten like a tiny sprig of green coming up through the hard brown earth I’m treading on.

It can feel so bleak until those moments emerge, though, so I keep on putting one foot in front of the other ... going, going ... until something finally shifts.

It was during one of these walks in late summer—with that lush, end-of-summer vegetation hanging heavily all around—that I realized how different my inner life was from all the verdant life in full bloom around me.

“I wish it were winter,” I thought. “I wish it were gray and cold; the season of dormancy. I’m gonna love winter this year.”

It was in this moment that I looked up and saw a white van drive by with lettering in green, “…making all things new,” punctuated by the graphic of a little green sprout.

Quickly recalling the verse from Revelation 21:5 “Behold, I am making all things new,” I sarcastically replied, “Thanks, God!” (Which is okay, because God understands my humor.)

God had my attention as I thought about that verse the whole way home. How, in the middle of all this death and loss, could there be the promise of anything new?

Fast forward three months, and winter is here with gray skies and dark days.

And with it, came the preparation for Christmas in the season of Advent. On my floor there were chewed up raw hides, nerf balls and a chewy toy losing its stuffing. Having a new puppy in the house is a lot like having a baby, I reminded myself, as I decorated the house for Christmas and placed our nativity set on the mantel.

Advent is always a time of preparation and reflection: deciding what to toss out and what to keep, what to treasure and what to release.

Although the people I lost this year are beyond the veil where I can reach, there are still parts of them that I will always hold to my heart and treasure: My auntie’s small gifts and cheerful greeting cards. Remembering my cousin playing the part of Santa that one Christmas. And I’m holding tight to the thank you cards my dad always sent me every time I sent him flowers.

I’m finding now that I can hold space for both grief and joy. I know there will be other days I will feel that wintery-gray cloud of grief. But there’s a sprout of green now in God’s promise.

“Behold, I’m making all things new.”

Heather Ruane is a member of Christ the King Church in Richland. Questions and comments should be directed to editor Lucy Luginbill in care of the Herald newsroom, 4253 W. 24th Avenue, Kennewick, WA 99338. Or email lluginbill@tricityherald.com.