“Where is my Starbucks Iowa coffee mug? I’ve used it every morning for the last 4 months, without fail. I don’t want to drink my coffee in anything else. It’s probably dirty, and in the dishwasher. I need to tell Chuck not to put my Iowa mug in the dishwasher. Oh, the dishwasher is clean. There it is.” This morning I mindlessly filled up my Starbucks Iowa coffee mug, added my Silk Mocha Almond Creamer (that sounds so extra!) and continued putzing around. I pulled out my prayer journal intending on spending some time with my Big Papa (AKA: God), and noticed a little flaw in my mug I hadn’t seen before. In a split second, I was flooded with sadness. Grief gripped my heart and squeezed. I knew what to do. “It’s ok. Let the pain come. Feel the sadness. Cry the tears.” It wasn’t about the mug’s flaw. It was about my Grandma. The last time I saw her…. *** “Hon, I think you should fly out to Iowa to see your Grandma…” It had been my Mom on the phone. “Your Aunt Sara called, and it s...