Reader’s Stories

Listen to Christina share her story on the Hope in the Mourning Podcast.

The beauty of life is one so bitter, yet sweet in the gift of Jesus Christ. Imagining a life without Him was impossible for me. God had been there through life’s obstacles. Wins and defeats. Challenges and triumphs. I felt strong. Borderline invincible to anything that could possibly come my way. After 29 years on this earth, I honestly thought I had it figured out. I lived “right” (or so I thought). I read my bible. I went to church. I did all the things I thought would keep me from any struggle or heartache. What a shallow and insignificant way to look at my walk with Christ! I couldn’t even imagine that one day I would have to cling on to the same scriptures I had read so much for dear life. The ones like, “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). Or, “I am with you always, even until the end of the world” (Matthew 28:30). I was about to board the wildest roller coaster ride I had ever experienced in my life. Was I ready? NO! Was I covered in the Blood? Yes! One that could never lose Its power.  

My mom was the most unique woman I had ever met. So humble. So quiet. So meek. So, loving. Matthew chapter 5 illuminated from her being. But her presence when she walked into a room could easily be overlooked. She never wanted to be the center of attention. She always made sure to stay out of the way. She never caused a ruckus anywhere she went. No one really knew her troubles or what really burdened her mind. She was always able to mask any sickness or downplay anything that might slow her down. Until, one day, she couldn’t. My strong, independent, superhero mom had finally gotten noticeably sick. There was no hiding this type of pain. She couldn’t be that stronghold like she had always been to our family anymore.  

I first noticed my mom, Jackie, seemed a bit off when she started to speak and walk a lot slower than she had before. Her strides to open the door when she heard her grandkids knocking to come for their daily visits, didn’t seem as enthusiastic. The Jackie I knew just didn’t seem right. I could look in her eyes and see that she was in a lot of pain. She just wouldn’t say it. In the back of my mind, I knew she was trying to protect everyone from any worry. Maybe she feared what may have been happening too. As time progressed, my five siblings and I made the conscious decision to have her come and live with me. My husband, Brandon, and I made sure we were with her round the clock. The most she could do for that week with me was sleep and eat. Until one morning, I woke up to a loud thump. Brandon and I sprung out of bed to find my mom in our kid’s room, lying on the floor. Unable to get up. Struggling to figure out how she had even gotten there to begin with. I asked her if she was ok, but the most she could really say was she just didn’t know. We knew it was time to get her the help that she needed.  

The sound of the ambulance arriving at my doorstep gave me a rush of helplessness. I watched the paramedics as they checked her thoroughly. Once they started to ask her questions, I could tell they seemed just as worried as we were. Out of all the outlandish responses she gave them to various questions, the one that I would never forget was when they asked her what day it was. She blurted out with all the confidence in the world, CHRISTMAS! Unfortunately, she didn’t remember that she had just celebrated two of her grandbabies’ May birthdays just the week prior at her own house. Her mind just seemed to be slipping away. 

The next couple of weeks were truly a blur. Doctors were in and out of her hospital room. Visitors left and right showing her all the support in the world. They thought they had figured out why her memory was bad. Her potassium levels had reached dangerously low levels. After that diagnosis and seeing that there was a great chance of a full recovery, I could finally breathe. The worry and anxiety that gripped my mind seemed to slowly fade away. My mom was even in better spirits. Her memory was better. Her energy had come back. She looked like her old self. Just for cautionary measure, the doctors decided to run some tests to make sure everything else in her body was ok. That was all I needed to hear. My mom would be out of the hospital in no time at all. Or so I thought.  

Once the results came back and the calls began to flood in, I could feel that it wasn’t the best news. I had to hold my breath again. All the anxiety came flooding back. CANCER. The word I had heard so many times, but never this close to home. My mom had cancer. Stage 4 breast cancer. But what did that mean? I could only think of death in my mind. My mom didn’t deserve this. God why? Why was this her fate, God? 

The cliche prayers that you could think of when praying for a miracle came rushing through me. It was nothing wrong with those prayers. But, in my mind, I thought I could pray this away. I prayed hard. I negotiated with Him. God, if you don’t do anything else for me, please save my mommy. I will do anything. The promises that I knew I couldn’t keep. I promised I would do better. I promised I would read my Bible more. I wouldn’t take her for granted anymore. I wouldn’t boss her around anymore (I needed to pray to be less bossy anyway). I listened to sermon after sermon and prayed to God so much that I knew that He just had to listen to me and grant my wishes. But God wasn’t a magic genie that would grant me the things I thought I needed. I had to learn the hard way that His will would ultimately be done.  

Watching my mom go to her chemotherapy appointments and countless doctors’ visits made me admire her even more. That same Jackie kept oozing through. She never complained. She never asked too much. She didn’t want to burden her family. She was the strongest I had ever seen her. Her struggles and setbacks were noticeable, but she kept pushing forward. She still came to church. She still tried her best to live as normally as she could. We spent the summer months just enjoying each other’s company. Watching her favorite morning game shows and afternoon mystery shows like Blue Bloods. After all, we were told by her doctors that she was doing well and had some good years ahead of her. We thought we had time.  

My mom’s birthday came in August, and everyone was so ecstatic to celebrate her.  She had made it to her 55^th birthday! Little did we know that this would be the very last time we would spend her special day together with her physically. Although not knowing, we made it a huge deal. She seemed up to celebrating in a big way too. We spent her entire birthday week going to restaurants. We ordered her a beautiful cake. Her kids and grandkids flooded her with so much love, and you could just feel the Holy Spirit radiating the atmosphere everywhere we went. She was so happy. God could and would work a miracle. My faith and hope were cemented in that since childhood. All the songs, hymns, and scriptures I had grown up on, gave me a sure hope that she would have a full recovery.  

Fall turned to Winter and by the time Thanksgiving came around, the family was still in pretty good spirits. My mom had been a little tired that day and rightfully so due to the chemo treatments. She laid down in my bed until the festivities began. We, as a family, gathered around the thanksgiving table and began our annual traditions. We went around the room telling everyone what we were most thankful for that year. It was her turn to speak. She made it a point to call out all her six kid’s names. She kept it short and sweet. As always. She was most thankful for her children. Such powerful words that came from her mouth. So simple to most, yet so profound. A couple days later, she would be bound to a hospital bed, never to return home.  

Those last weeks, days, moments, were some of the most difficult that my siblings and I would ever have to face in our young lives. My youngest sister was only 12 at the time. Her young heart just couldn’t take the trauma. I had to be the one to drop her off with family before driving our mom to her deathbed. She exited the car and just as she closed the door, my mom said, “I love you Jayla!” But she didn’t hear it. Those final words that my mom spoke to my baby sister, she didn’t even get a chance to hear. The final ride to the hospital. That ride was so somber. Of course I didn’t know this at the time, but those memories still linger in my head. They haunt me. Could I have said more to her? Done more? Spent more time with her? I would never get that chance. 

The nurse called my sister in the early hours on a Sunday morning. His words, in a nutshell, were that we needed to get to the hospital quickly because my mom might have had a stroke, and they didn’t know if she would make it through the night. Walking into her room, I saw what seemed like a child tussling to get their mittens off. My mom had looked as though she reverted to childlike behavior. I didn’t understand what I was looking at. She couldn’t talk or walk. She just looked down at her hands trying unsuccessfully to get those mittens off her hands. Mittens that the hospital staff placed on her to keep her from hurting herself. I couldn’t grasp this reality. I had just talked to her on the phone the night before. I had just seen her. She seemed fine. The doctors couldn’t even understand how she had taken a sudden turn for the worse.  

My family stayed right by her side until her very last day. She was never left alone. They made sure of that. For some reason though, I just couldn’t bear seeing her dying right before my eyes. So, I stayed away. I couldn’t bring myself to go to the hospital. None of my siblings could do it either. Until one day, (December 7, 2019 to be exact), I received a call that no one was available to sit with her. I was sure that they could have found someone else to do it. Just not me! Then, the Holy Spirit began to work on me. Telling me that I could do this. This pull inside of me gave me the courage to go. All I had to do was sit with her for a while until someone else was available to come. Come and relieve me of the torment of sitting in that room alone with her. I spent the entire day just talking to her and playing her favorite gospel songs. The time I was able to spend with her was, surprisingly, therapeutic. It was exactly what the Holy Spirit was nudging me to do. I was so happy that I conquered my fears and did just what He said. That evening, only hours after I left her side, my mom took her final breath. In that moment, I thought of what I had thought was such an outlandish response from her just months before. She thought it was Christmas time at the beginning of her diagnosis. Sure enough, she gained her heavenly wings with her favorite holiday a couple of weeks around the corner!  We would celebrate Jesus’ birth here on earth, but she had the honor of celebrating her transition into a permanent heavenly home. Christmas would be every day for her.  

The morning of her funeral was the absolute worse day of my life. I didn’t think I could go. I couldn’t see her laying there lifeless in a box. But I knew I had to. The church was packed. I was shocked. My mom didn’t really have many friends. We had a big family, but I didn’t expect this huge turnout. The church was filled with people I had no idea she impacted so much. My uncle gave an amazing eulogy on passing the baton. My mom had run her race. She had instilled the Word of God in her children and grandchildren. She did exactly what God had called her to do. Live a meek and humble life. Love your neighbor as yourself. Do everything in love. What a fitting sermon to speak at the end of her earthly life. In those moments, I finally understood why she never stood up for herself. Why didn’t she argue or fight with anyone. God did it for her! All her battles, she gave completely to God. Money could never buy that kind of peaceful life.  

Life can be full of beautiful heartaches. One thing that I learned from my mom’s death is that with God you can truly heal from such a tragedy. I thought that for the rest of my earthly life that I would be miserable without her. But it is quite the opposite. I am happy! I have joy! I have peace! I have understanding! An understanding that one sweet day, I will see her again. God’s grace and mercy has provided me with so much hope that we will be together again walking the streets paved with gold, praising our heavenly Father for an eternity. What a glorious day that will be! Until then, I will keep living. Living for God. Keeping her memory and name alive through my children. The ones she was able to meet and the two she will meet in glory. Until that sweet, sweet day! 

Hope and Helps

1. What scripture did you cling to on the hardest days and nights? 

The scripture that always rang so clear in my mind was For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. (2 Timothy 1:7) Despite one of the most devastating losses in my life, God said in His word that He has given me a sound mind. I had no reason to sink into the nothingness of grief. 

2. What hymns or songs comforted you? 

I have always thought of myself as an old soul because I absolutely love hymnals. My all-time favorite hymn would have to be Love Lifted Me. It speaks of us as humans drowning in our sins, sorrows, and headed to spiritual and physical death. But God! His love was and is able to lift us from any state we are currently in.  

3. What did people do to minister to you? 

At first, I didn’t allow anyone to do anything for me and became very recluse. I mainly focused on my youngest sister and making sure that everything given to me, went straight to her. People did send cards with monetary donations. They sent food during the following weeks after my mom’s death, so we didn’t have to cook. I didn’t really participate in that either. I just wasn’t ready to allow people to do anything for me. I learned over time to let people help me. We are all one body in Christ and God places people in your life for a reason.  

4. What should people NOT say/do to others in a similar situation? 

I think people shouldn’t make it about them during your most vulnerable moments. Oftentimes, people think they can relate to you but have no idea what it is like to lose your mom. Even close family members should understand that in your moment of grief, their grief just doesn’t compare. My siblings and my pain were vastly different. The one womb that we shared was gone. No one could relate to us at that moment. We should be able to grieve without anyone taking that attention away from us. The wishes of the immediate family should always be respected and upheld. The weeks and months following such a loss are just as important. People tended to become mean and rude following my mom’s death. You would think that it would be the total opposite. Just be kind to those who are suffering. It takes time to begin the healing process. As believers in Christ, we just need to be more loving. After all, God is love! 

5. What hope has Jesus given you in the loss of your mom? 

The only hope I ever needed in the loss of my mom was that I would see her again. God has given me sure confidence that He will reunite us in heaven one day, never to be apart from each other again. While I’m still here, I made it my purpose to pour the word of God into my children. I minister to my kids every single day. There isn’t one day that goes by where I am not telling my children about Jesus. They make sure to let me know it too. They know before we do anything or go anywhere, we will put God first. My drive for teaching them comes from the knowledge that Grandma is there waiting to see them too.  

6. What encouragement have you found from Hope in the Mourning? 

Hope in the Mourning has awakened the drive in me to serve others. I did surface level ministering after my mom’s death, but Hope in the Mourning gave me foundational tools to really help those who are suffering. I made it a point to listen to the critiques of the authors in the book and use them in my everyday walk with Christ. One of the main critiques that stood out to me was when those mourning said they didn’t like when people reached out and said if there is something they could do, just let them know. I learned what a copout that was as a Christian. We are here to meet the needs of a dying and sin sick world. We don’t need anyone to ask for our help, it should be there ready to be used at a moment’s notice. Jesus didn’t ask to wash the disciples’ feet, He just did it! What a heartfelt way for our Savior to serve.