These lyrics we sang in church this morning had new meaning:  'Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God. Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the ninety-nine...' It hit me... Amy, you're not one of the 99.

Although it's been 22 years, pain, poverty, and anger still plague thousands of survivors struggling to live in wholeness.This group, however, was not like the others. This group included genocide perpetrators; people who committed unfathomable evil acts, went to prison, repented and are now free.

God prioritizes spiritual wholeness over physical wholeness. But for those of us suffering pain or brokenness in our bodies, or grieving a life lost, that answer sucks.

As part of my normal routine, I pick up the pen and write my own entry. Eventually I pack up, putting the journal away, and hover over his gravesite. Deep sigh. It's been a long time, Jer.

For five years I’ve felt like a wooden raft adrift in a sea of thrashing waves. They’re tearing me apart. I can’t catch my breath before I’m pummeled by the next one. There’s no hope. It’s dark. I’m cold and wet. And I want out. I want out of this turbulent marriage.

I think it’s been hard this week because I remember that pain like it was yesterday. Only it was 10 years ago on August 9th when I witnessed the drowning of my brother, Jeremy.

It was about 17 hours after Jeremy died; approximately 8am on August 10, 1998. I just woke up from spending the night in my parents' bed. We sobbed all night in shock and grief. I eventually dozed off out of sheer exhaustion. My parents weren't so lucky. They were up all night. It was their sobbing I first heard when I woke.