My dad, who’s been widowed nearly four years, is getting re-married in a couple of weeks. His fiancée is moving her stuff into his house, which means that Dad had to find a new home for some of his stuff. So my brother and I took a bedroom set, piano, dining room set and assorted furniture, knick-knacks, and dishes off his hands this weekend.

My dad and mom had been married 48 years when my mom passed away from colon cancer. My hubby and I are going on 25 years of marriage. And my brother and his wife have been married over 15 years. So this is the first time that anyone on my side of the family has ever remarried.

People keep asking me, “How are you doing? Is it weird? What do you think of your dad’s fiancée? Do you feel like she’s usurping your mom’s place?

I’ll admit; it does take some getting used to, and my brother and I swallowed some tears when we watched my dad’s fiancée taking my mom’s cross-stitched marvels off the walls and replacing them with the watercolors she’d painted. But other than the normal emotions that rise to the surface when I’m least expecting them, we’re all adjusting pretty well.

I think that some of that (maybe a lot of it) is because we are an adoptive family. My brother’s wife was adopted and she located her birth family when she was 30. Our kids were both adopted and we see their birth families regularly. Even my dad was informally adopted by his step mother when he was a little tyke. So welcoming a new person into our family seems more normal than odd.

Along with my dad’s fiancée comes her children and grandchildren and their significant others, as well. So far, we’ve only met one of her daughters and she seems nice enough. We’re all expending extra energy to ensure that the transition is as comfortable and painless for everyone as possible.

When I talked with my dad the other night he said that while he’ll always have good memories of his life with my mom, he’s ready to celebrate his present—and his future with his soon-to-be wife.

I think that’s a good attitude. So often, we wallow in looking back at what was or wondering what might have been. That attitude seems unproductive at best and can result in getting “stuck” in depression, grief, and anger. I don’t think it’s what God wants for us.

God has an amazing way of healing deep hurts and of bringing people together to create new love when we never imagined it would be possible for our hearts to expand again. God creates families where a void previously existed.

It’s a joy to be part of a miracle. I’m witnessing it with my dad and his fiancée – both widows and committed Christians who found healing and fresh love at age 74. As we keep our eyes glued to Jesus, “the author and perfector of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2 NIV), we, too, can expect miracles.