The Ache I Carry, The Hope I Hold

My heart is broken, and it is lonely in ways words struggle to hold. There are days when the silence feels heavier than any noise ever could, when memories echo louder than the present moment. I tried—so deeply and sincerely—to be a good mother. I loved with everything I had, even when I didn’t always know the right way to show it. I know I made mistakes. I know there are moments I wish I could reach back into and hold differently, speak more gently, love more wisely. That truth lives with me, and it humbles me.

But God, in His endless mercy and greatness, found me not when I was strong—but when I was shattered. He met me right in the middle of my brokenness, when I had nothing left to give and no strength left to pretend. And He healed me. Not all at once, not without tears, but faithfully and tenderly, piece by piece. He reminded me that I am not defined by my failures, but by His grace.

Life has tried its hardest to break me since then. Loss has come in waves, grief stacking upon grief, each one testing the foundation beneath my feet. I miss my children with an ache that never truly leaves. I miss my siblings, my grandchildren, and the laughter that once filled rooms that now feel too quiet. And the deepest pain—the one that settles into my chest and takes my breath away—I miss my daughter and her child, a precious soul I have never met but already love beyond measure. That absence is a wound without words.

Still, I remain grounded in my faith. Not because life has been kind, but because God has been faithful. When everything else feels uncertain, He is my anchor. When my heart feels too heavy to carry, He carries me. I believe—no, I trust—that He will bring us through this. That somehow, in ways I cannot yet see or understand, He is still working. Still restoring. Still redeeming what feels lost.

I hold onto the promise that this is not the end of the story. That there will be light beyond this darkness. That on the other side of this pain, we will stand brighter, stronger, and shining—not because we were unbroken, but because we were held. And until that day comes, I will keep believing, keep praying, and keep placing my broken heart into the hands of the One who has never let me go.

Even here, even now, God is still writing something beautiful.