It’s nearly been a year since my Mom died. It’s been a quick year,but a hard year. Grief is not something that you can really prepare for or understand.It doesn’t make sense. It isn’t linear, there is no timeline that fits all. It’sunpredictable.

I’ll be fine one moment. Better than fine, even. Happy. Thenthe next as I’m doing something mundane like putting away groceries in mypantry the grief comes at me quick and the next thing I know, I’m sobbing on mykitchen floor. Then I get up and I’m okay again. It’s weird.

I can say it honestly now- this past year has been the toughestI have experienced emotionally. It forced what I tried to bury up to thesurface and made me look reality in the face. The reality is not pretty and itis not what I want and it will always be something that I wish were different. Butit will never be different. I accept that. I do. I accept that, but it’spainful.

I didn’t start writing this to talk about the pain though. Iwanted to share the consolation.

My sisters and I were in my mother’s ICU room at a Dallashospital when she departed. The nurse called her time of death and I wanted tohold her hand, so I did. I hadn’t held her hand since I was a little girl and Inoticed how much smaller her hand was than mine. I touched her forehead and saidthrough tears “the struggle is over.” It was the first thought that I had whenshe was gone. My sisters and I were all sobbing and then held each other for I’mnot sure how long. We were hurting, but in that hurt, I also felt a sense ofpeace. A peace that doesn’t make sense.

That same nonsensical peace has surrounded me throughout acknowledginghow my mother lived and died. It has surrounded me even as I have been shaking andsobbing with grief. It has surrounded me as I’ve really started to miss her andwish I could talk to her. It has surrounded me as I have faced the truth abouther brokenness and mine.

This peace is the truth and has a name. His name is JesusChrist. I know a lot of people that believe in this but will still getuncomfortable if one gets “too religious” for them. I also know those who aren’tsure they believe, because if He is so good, why doesn’t He just come down hereand fix everything bad?

He loves us too much to take away our freedom to choose Him.If it was forced, it wouldn’t be true love. So He will never force himself onyou but will ALWAYS be available to you. To comfort. To console.

I know the world will tell you that you don’t need Him, butthat’s a lie. I also know that the world will tell you to keep thisrelationship quiet, don’t embarrass yourself with all of this God talk, butthat’s a lie as well. Everyone deserves to know and experience this love, thispeace, this truth. It’s okay for you to be courageous and share it with someonetoo. Everyone deserves this consolation. It is free to all of us.

It is this consolation that helps me through my grief. It isthis consolation that helps me in my marriage. In my parenting. In my work. Everyaspect of my life is made better because of the trust that I place in Jesus. I’veheard a metaphor for Christianity that goes something like “being a Christianis just like having a coat in the winter. It’s cold outside either way, but the people wearing the coat have an extra layer of comfort.” Maybe thatmetaphor is silly, but it makes sense to me as someone who has lived both kindsof lives. Having the coat gives me hope and gives me strength. It makes me okay even when things aren't okay, and most importantly, helps me to remember each day who I really am.

My prayer for you is that you have the same consolation inyour life. The same consolation that provides security, hope and even joy. Youare deserving and worthy of all that is good, and you are so very loved. That is the truth!

Until next time . . .