Seasons, Stories, and Staying Present

March 13, 2026 marks five years since Mark Rogers died.

I could spend hours talking about what Mark still means to my family. About how he changed the direction of my life for the better. About how nearly my entire adult life, from my freshman year at ACU until his death, was filled with memories that somehow always had Mark in them.

Our families go back even further. His uncle Paul was in club with my dad at ACU. Mark’s mom Melissa was a bridesmaid in my cousin’s wedding.

For Talan, Mark and Jenn were her Young Life leaders at Abilene High when she was fifteen and sixteen. They became heroes to her. A couple she admired. A picture of the kind of life she hoped to have one day. She had no idea then that they would become our closest friends for more than a decade after we both found our way back to Abilene.

Life has a strange way of weaving stories together long before we understand what they mean.

Five years later, Mark is still everywhere in our lives.

I named my business in his honor.
Talan walked in his shoes at Big Brothers Big Sisters for more than four years.
Our boys still FaceTime every single day. Literally.

Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could sit with Mark again. Just once more. One more laugh. One more conversation. One more walk.

And yet, every single day, I am grateful for the time we had. For how his friendship shaped me. For how his presence helped put me on the path I’m walking now.

There is something about time and change and seasons that makes all of this feel sharper.

I don’t like change.

I get into a groove. I settle in. I get comfortable. And then the season shifts.

Just when I finally adjust to the cold, the heat shows up again. Brutal. Relentless. And yet, with it comes flowers. Pool parties. Long evenings. Light. Life.

It’s beautiful.
And it’s exhausting.
And it never stops.

It’s stunning to see where our kids are now. It’s almost overwhelming to watch them grow into themselves. To see their confidence. Their questions. Their dreams.

And to realize that my story, and Talan’s story, and Jenn’s story, and Brent’s story are not their story.

They are writing something new.

Seasons change.
New chapters replace old ones.
New growth comes from storms that once felt unbearable.

I don’t like change.

But I love seeing what God does in the middle of it.

I’m still not great at stopping to honor Him.
I don’t always trust Him.
I still hesitate to ask for His help.
I still want control.

I still want to drive.

I know He is there. I saw Him in my darkest moments, even when I was angry at Him. Even when I didn’t like Him. Even when I wanted answers He didn’t give.

I see Him now as our kids grow into their own stories. I see His fingerprints everywhere.

Not forcing.
Not pushing.
Not dragging us anywhere.

Just steady.
Just faithful.
Just loving us wherever we go.

Our family loves rewatching The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings every few years.

And the way those stories end always gets me.

The closing of the book.
The turning of the page.
Bilbo to Frodo.
Frodo to Sam.
One story handing itself to another.

Friendship.
Loss.
Failure.
Victory.
Joy.
Grief.

All woven together into one long journey.

That’s life.

That’s what Mark understood better than anyone I’ve ever known.

One of his greatest gifts was presence.

He wasn’t perfect. Not even close. I could tell you stories.

But when he was with you, he was with you.

No rushing.
No half-listening.
No checking out.

He was there.

And that changed me.

It made me realize how much of life I had been missing while worrying about what was next.

I don’t want to miss moments anymore.

I want to laugh.
I want to cry.
I want to feel the sun and the wind and the rain.
I want to smell the roses.
I want to love deeply.
I want to trust freely.

I don’t want to fight over small things.
I don’t want to live angry.
I don’t want to waste time.

I want to live.

Right now, I’m watching some things in my life come to a close. Things I wish could last forever.

At the same time, I’m watching new things bloom. New dreams. New callings. New relationships. New purpose.

Some things are fading.
Some things are flourishing.

It’s natural.
It’s beautiful.
It’s heartbreaking.

All at once.

And in the middle of it all, I feel this quiet invitation.

To remember.
To be grateful.
To stay present.
To trust God with what I cannot control.

Mark taught me that life is not about holding on forever. It’s about showing up fully while you’re here.

God keeps teaching me that love is bigger than loss. That hope outlasts grief. That no story is ever truly finished. It just changes chapters.

So today, five years later, I choose gratitude.

For Talan.
For Mark.
For Jenn.
For our families.
For our kids.
For our God.
For every season that has shaped us.

I choose presence.
I choose faith.
I choose love.

Because in the end, when the pages turn and the seasons shift, love is what remains.

And love is what carries us home.