I Know What She’d Say
There are weeks when the weight of loss feels unbearable.
This was one of those weeks—too many goodbyes, too much heartache.
We said farewell to dear friends battling cancer. We stood beside families as they held the hands of their children, whispering goodbyes far too soon. There are no words for moments like that. These families aren’t just names or visits on a calendar. They become part of our hearts. We walk their journeys with them—and when they hurt, we do too.
After one especially tough hospice visit, I climbed into my car and sat in silence with Mabel by my side. I closed my eyes and whispered, “Oh Mom, I wish you were here. I need one of our talks.”
And in that quiet moment, I felt her so close.
Because the truth is—I do know what she’d say.
She gave me a lifetime of wisdom in five sacred years during her own cancer battle.
Five years of deep conversations, gentle truths, and holy perspective that now guide me through the hardest days.
She’d say,
“What you see is what you’re looking for… so what are you looking for?”
And right then, I’d feel her nudge me back toward gratitude.
Toward goodness.
Even in the middle of grief.
She knew that even in sorrow, there’s still light to be found.
She’d gently remind me:
“Life is a gift. Don’t waste a second.”
Not even the hard seconds.
Especially not the hard ones—because that’s where God often meets us in the most unexpected ways.
When the pain was too deep, when the goodbye felt like it might break me, she’d say,
“It’s not your battle. Give God His battle back.”
Of all the things she ever said, that one lives in me daily.
Whether it’s illness, heartbreak, betrayal, or disappointment—
it’s not mine to carry alone.
She taught me to surrender it to the only One strong enough to carry it all.
And oh, how faithful He’s been.
She’d also say,
“Choose joy. Love always. Forgive often.”
And she didn’t just say it—she lived it.
She knew the depth I’d be called to love and the depth I’d have to forgive.
So she prepared my heart for both.
And when the noise of the world starts to drown out the peace in my soul,
I can still hear her say,
“Breathe. Stop. Rest. Don’t listen to the noise. It’ll veer you off course. Stay focused on the mission and be still.
Those are the moments you’ll hear God the most.”
And this week—I needed every one of those words.
I needed the silence. I needed to be still.
Because in that quiet… I heard Him.
And I felt her.
Grief may have knocked hard on the door this week,
But faith answered.
And the wisdom of my mom—the love she poured into every part of my life—
That’s what helped me take the next step.
I know what she’d say.
And because of the faith she placed so deeply in me,
I know what He would say too.
And that’s what carries me through.
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