The Redemption of Retrospect

Each year on October 7, I dedicate a special blog post to Vicki—honoring her life, her legacy, and her love. Someone once asked me, “How long do you intend to do this?” To be honest, I really didn’t start with any guidelines, goals, or deadlines. I simply wanted to honor Vicki and share some of my thoughts, memories, and perspective about the life she lived and the difference she made.

And perhaps, in some ways, that is what retrospect does. It allows us to look back—not simply to remember what was, but to recognize what remains.

Today, I’m again reminded of just how blessed I was to have been a part of Vicki’s life and to have shared so much of this earthly journey with her. Her sparkling blue eyes and radiant smile could light up any room and capture a heart in an instant. But her outer beauty was rivaled only by the beauty that lived within her. When God created Vicki, He truly created a masterpiece.

Throughout her life, Vicki carried many titles—wife, mother, schoolteacher, worship leader, Bible teacher, realtor, and many others. Each role required different gifts, different skills, and different responsibilities. Yet beneath every title and through every transition, there was a common thread: she wanted to help someone, lift someone, encourage someone, and make a positive difference in someone’s life.

She didn’t simply occupy positions; she used those positions as opportunities for purpose. But of all the titles she carried, Vicki often said she believed her highest calling was to be a mother. And when Melody and Matt were born, there was no doubt that calling became both apparent and personal.

She spent countless hours loving them, teaching them, guiding them, supporting them, encouraging them, and praying for them. She helped establish a foundation of faith and Godly character in their young lives that has proven again and again to be strong and steadfast throughout their adulthood. She taught them about God, but even more importantly, she modeled a life with God before them. She didn’t just tell them what it meant to follow Christ. She showed them.

There was never any confusion about her priorities.

God was first!

Her life was devoted to helping others, but above every title, task, and responsibility was her desire to live for Christ—and, even more, to allow Christ to live through her. Her life was a reflection of God’s love. No matter what hat she was wearing or what responsibility she was carrying, she tried to make sure her faith was not simply something she professed, but something she practiced.

And perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts she left behind. Not simply what she did, but who she was. Not simply the roles she fulfilled, but the lives she influenced. Not simply the memories she made, but the meaning those memories continue to carry.

So, when I speak of “The Redemption of Retrospect,” what does that actually mean?

Redemption doesn’t change the past; it changes how we see it. It allows what was marked by pain, loss, disappointment, or brokenness to become a source of meaning, growth, gratitude, and even greater faith.

There are things we cannot understand while we are living through them. Moments that feel unfair, confusing, and unbearable. Questions that may never be answered. But time and reflection often reveal what pain concealed.

You cannot change what happened yesterday, but you can discover something new about it today. You can see growth where you once saw only grief, gratitude where there was emptiness, strength where you once felt weak, and purpose where you once saw only pain. Sometimes, you can even recognize the fingerprints of God in places where, at the time, all you could see was the hurt.

Retrospect is more than remembering—it can become a pathway to healing.

In the beginning, grief often feels like absence. Someone is gone. A voice is missing. A chair is empty. A familiar place feels unfamiliar. But with time, retrospect reveals that absence is not the whole story.

There is also presence—in the memories, the lessons, the laughter, the love, the lives that were changed, and the legacy that remains.

Looking back does not bring the person back. But it can help us recover the meaning of what they gave us.

Ordinary moments become sacred when viewed through the lens of hindsight. Conversations become cherished memories. Simple smiles become priceless treasures. Days we once took for granted become days we would give anything to experience again.

We often recognize the significance of a moment only after the moment has passed.

And looking back allows us to see not only what was lost, but what remains.

The love remains.
The lessons remain.
The memories remain.
The influence remains.
The legacy remains.
And, for those of us who believe in Christ, the hope remains.

Retrospect does not erase pain. Nor is grief somehow made insignificant. Instead, pain can be redeemed when it becomes a source of compassion, strength, wisdom, or deeper faith.

That is why I continue to look back—not because I am stuck in the past, but because there is still something to be found there. There are memories worth remembering, lessons worth learning, blessings worth counting, and a legacy worth carrying forward.

When I look back, I can see that Vicki’s life continues to speak, serve, shape, and bless.

We cannot rewrite the past.
We cannot reclaim yesterday.
We cannot change the ending.

But we can look back through a different lens and discover that even in the midst of loss, something beautiful remains.

And sometimes, when we look back with faith, we discover that what once looked like a broken story was never beyond the reach of redemption.

That, my friend . . . is the redemption of retrospect!

Last year I released a book to honor Vicki and detailing my story: “Joy Comes In The Mourning: Finding Hope In The Hallway.”

If you, or someone you know is experiencing a loss due to someone’s death, a divorce, betrayal, or disappointment of any kind, I would encourage you to get a copy of this book. This book is a rallying cry for anyone stuck in loss, paralyzed by heartbreak, or convinced their best days are behind them. With raw honesty and unshakable faith, it will remind you that if you have a pulse, you have a purpose.

If you feel that you are standing in a dark hallway surrounded by locked doors, this book will hand you the key to hope.

Available from Amazon, and wherever books are sold.

I’m . . .
Still Believing