Laura Binkley, like her Savior, was thirty-three when she died. A missionary, she was murdered in Moscow in October 1993. She saw it coming, and in her last phone call to her mother said, “Mom, if something happens to me, grieve for me properly.”1 What does it mean to grieve properly when one has lost a daughter, a son, a close companion, or the spouse who was one’s own best friend? Grief at the loss of a loved one is as old as the human race. Everyone who loves will experience
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