"Another beautiful morning!" He said. As I passed him, I tilted my chin towards the sky and repeated, "Another beautiful morning." As if I was asking God, please, show me the beauty.

My body felt tired and a bit disoriented — the thickness of bad dreams and weird sleep still on me. I was walking towards the coffee shop with a few dollars tucked in my pocket — smiling at neighbors as they passed by — thinking it earned me some kind of points. I was praying that God would make things lighter, knowing that caffeine tends to help.

The air was cool — July in Northern Michigan is nothing like the southern July I've gotten used to. This is my favorite place on earth. I've spent summers here since I was born, and my soul unfolds in this corner of the north.

But I've been working on being more honest - with myself, others and I guess my email list, too. This time, it's been hard. My mom has been battling a rare stage 4 cancer for eight years. She's not doing well at all. I'm not sure I am, either.

The other night, Mom got up the courage and energy to stop by a winery down the street. This Las Vegas-like performer (how he got to this small town in Michigan, I don't know) was entertaining a small circle of people around a fire. The sun was setting, everyone was dancing, and it felt like a moment from a movie.

I was sitting next to my mom. I can typically sense her feelings without looking, and I knew she was crying. So, of course, to the tune of Surfin' USA by the Beach Boys, I began to cry too. To feel the joy of life and be faced with the way it can end - it's a brutal mix.

Feeling the heat that comes from crying in an intimate public setting, I started to biting my cheek to stop the tears and do the mental gymnastics it requires to calm down. I was grasping for anything, so I said the only prayer I could think of. I made a deal with God — "If this man sings Sweet Caroline, I'll take it as my sign that you're going to make everything okay."

This one-man band kept banging on his keyboard, and the setlist wasn't showing signs of my Sweet Caroline wish. I let it go in my heart and almost forgot I asked.

But then the finale came, and he brought out his best Neil Diamond impression. The small crowd around the campfire erupted. He started to play Sweet Caroline.

I almost jumped out of my seat. The tears freely flowed, and I turned to my mom to say - "This is what I asked for! This is what I asked God to do as a promise that he will make everything okay!"

And I just kept crying and smiling to the sound of "Bum … bum … BAH"

I will be tucking away this gift in my heart for many years. Probably forever.

I keep looking back at this moment of suffering and seeing God's hand reaching me – using the performance of some guy named Dominic to say — He is here. He really cares. He really hears. He will make everything okay.

Like I talked about in last week's email, we all hear from God. I'd like to add - I think he likes the song, Sweet Caroline.

Sending love,

C