Tough news at the beginning of the Christmas season. The "lovely lady" mom of the Brady Bunch died on Thanksgiving.

Florence Henderson played lots of roles on Broadway and TV. But she'll always be remembered as Carol Brady - mother to the six kids of that iconic sitcom family, the Brady Bunch.

I think my pastor spoke for millions of Americans on this first Sunday after Election Day. He simply said, "I'm exhausted." Beyond the battle fatigue, there's a wide - and passionate - range of emotions. From celebrating to grieving, from anticipation to anger, from relief to fear, from hope to hurt. With the political battlefield strewn with damaged relationships, raw emotions, finger-pointing, conflicting passions - and lots of uncertainty.

By Brad Hutchcraft

We have a tree in our yard that is one of my favorite things. Sure, a tree might be no big deal to some, but it means a lot to me. I have always loved the changing of seasons, especially seeing the leaves change color each autumn. I think it started with the story my mom and dad would tell me growing up. They would tell us that the angels came out to paint the leaves at night when the weather got cooler. That was always such a cool picture to me. It didn't help me ace my science exams, but still a memorable story from my childhood.

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The streets of Manhattan get pretty crazy. You're bullied by buses, taxis and surging pedestrians. And unhinged by honking horns, screaming sirens, rushing people. Awful, many say.

And then there's the view from the Freedom Tower. Awesome, many say. Above the mess and stress. Amazed by a whole new perspective, a breathtaking view of the island, the harbor, the city.

I missed the sunset tonight. But I saw something just as beautiful.

The afterglow. A sky painted by my favorite Artist in brilliant hues of orange and yellow. I've seen a lot of sunsets. All over the country and the world. But the show isn't over when the sun goes down. The sky is still glowing. Often, magnificently.

"My name is Idiot."

She's only four. But when police in Hot Springs, Arkansas responded to a report of child abuse, that's what she told them. The marks of abuse were all over her body. Bruises everywhere, a black eye, scars on her back.

I've always loved the hymn "Amazing Grace." Now I'm living it.

When a song or a favorite food or an old voicemail slams me with the still inconceivable reality that she won't be back. Or when I'm in the living room where the love of my life and I shared so much. Her touches are everywhere. Her laughter is in the walls. Her absence is overwhelming. She's been gone a month now.

I enjoy reading my newspaper. My kids enjoyed crashing through my newspaper to sit on my lap. Of course, nowadays, it's getting harder to bother your father while he's checking out the news. You'd have to jump on his iPhone.

Anyway, I could relate when I heard about this little guy who kept interrupting his dad while he was reading his voluminous Sunday paper. For a while, Dad was able to buy a little time by saying "pretty soon, Son." But eventually, Son wasn't buying it.

Three weeks the love of my life has been gone. It's a lonely I've never felt before.

On the one hand, it's weird that I would be talking about loneliness. I'm surrounded by an incredible family, dedicated to their Mom's passion to "take care of Ron."

I've done my whole adult life with my Karen, the only woman I've ever needed.

Suddenly, I have to figure out how to do the rest of my life without her.

Sunday night, we sat in the bleachers at our local football stadium and watched our grandson graduate from high school. As valedictorian. Giving a faith-filled valedictory speech.

Monday afternoon, she was gone. Wrapped in a huddle of sobs with our three adult children, I choked out, "It hurts so bad." It really does.