Living with Loren

As I sit in the dark, listening to the hum of the fan, my almost two-year-old sleepily wiggles her way to my side and snuggles against me. I find myself mindlessly humming the old Baptist church song, “I’ll be alright, I’ll be alright after a while.”

And then I hear it, almost too soft to catch.

“Sweeter and better.”

I pause.

“Huh… sweeter and better? Now? Really?”

Losing my Grandmother and my Daddy just seven days apart,  that floored me.

That did not feel like sweeter and better.

And then I hear it again:

“You knew. I prepared you along the way. I gave you moments with them.”

I sigh.

What happens when left goes right?
When black and white, up and down, are no longer clear?

The gray spaces. The middle ground.
What do we do there?

I sigh again and whisper, “Okay, Lord… I know what this is.”

And just like that, I choose to let understanding settle in.

The sweeter and better is what Lena Mae Rhyne and Anthony King now have.

No more pain.
No more struggling to explain what their bodies could no longer carry.
No more having to be strong when strength was not really an option.

They are well.
And it is well.

In that moment, I thought about the many stories I have read, biblically, and I realized something:

Sweeter and better is not a fairy tale.

It is not a life without pain, without sorrow, without fighting. It is the assurance that God protects, covers, heals, loves, and most importantly, restores. Every single time.

So feel the pain.
Shed the tears.
But do not forget who God is.

The emotions are real, but they are not meant to consume you.

I have always known I was a warrior.
And sometimes, a warrior’s spirit grows restless because it feels the need to fight.

But in the sweeter and better, fighting is no longer required.

The work now is different.

It is acknowledging that the battle is already won.

That the victory belongs to God.

Oh, life…wisdom and purpose cost.

And sometimes, the cost is walking through what we would never choose,
just to discover we were always being carried.

And just like that, “I’ll be alright” shifts into another prayer: “Pass me not, O gentle Savior…”

And I thank God that He did not pass them by but welcomed them to the throne of mercy, where they found sweet relief.

Sweeter is better even when it does not feel like it.

I yawn, realizing my eyes have grown heavy. I turn on my side and return my daughter’s snuggle, knowing the lineage I grieve is the legacy I now uphold.

Until Next Time

Keep Living!

Love, Loren

© 2026 Living with Loren by Loren Rhyne. All rights reserved. Created with grace, written with purpose.