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Dear One,

How often I sit by the window, listening to the wind as it weaves through the trees, its voice like a whisper carried across time. In every gust, I hear echoes of those we loved—our family, once so near, now scattered like autumn leaves on the breath of the world. 

Their laughter, their warmth, their love—these things remain, lingering like the scent of flowers long after the petals have fallen.

They have left us, one by one, like birds taking flight into the unknown. But do not grieve, for love never truly leaves. It is woven into the very fabric of our lives, as the wind is woven through the branches, as leaves are tangled in your hair, softly touching, softly reminding you of all that was. And love, dear heart, is always present.

Children grow and love changes its form, but it does not fade. It is passed on, a flame lit and relit, until it becomes a fire that warms generations. In the tender gaze of a child, in the touch of a lover’s hand, we glimpse eternity. 

We catch sight of Christ's love, eternal and unwavering, binding us not just to each other, but to all the things that matter—the beauty of the earth, the simplicity of a breeze, the love of life itself.

Life is a fleeting thing, but it is filled with joy if we open our hearts to it. I have heard it through time—the soft rustling of leaves, the murmur of the sea, the sacred silence that follows a prayer. 

All of it speaks to a truth as old as the stars: we are never alone, even when those we love have gone. They are carried on the wind, their voices a part of the eternal chorus of life, their love a thread that binds us all, forever.

So, walk through this world with your head held high and your heart wide open. Feel the wind in your hair and know that every gust carries a message from those who came before. Love them, as they loved you, as Christ loves us all.

Yours ever,

James McLain
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