As some of you have learned from reading our book or following our social media, our family has walked through a circumstance no one wants to experience, yet too many have.
We lost our 25-year-old son, Noah, in June 2021 to the ravages of the fentanyl epidemic.
The days, weeks, and months following his death were gut-wrenching. I honestly wasn’t certain how I could continue, except for the compassion and love of God, family, and friends—and a firm belief that God was alive, active, and present with me and my family, comforting us in our suffering.
Worship Ignites Trust
I knew I had to press on and press into my faith in Jesus. And God helped me do just that—not by removing the grief, but by meeting me in it. Grief isn’t always what we expect. It isn’t always about death. Sometimes it is the loss of what we thought life would be, the future we imagined, or the way we thought things would unfold. And in those moments, it can feel like God is distant. But He is not. He did not cause our suffering, and He is not absent from it, either. He grieves right with us, and He meets us in it.
Some of you may remember me sharing about a morning early in our grief journey. I was walking our family dog, Sadie, while listening to worship music. The song Gratitude by Brandon Lake came on. For a moment, something in me softened. And then I heard the words:
“Come on, my soul… don’t you get shy on me…”
I felt as if the Lord gently invited me—not to ignore my pain, but to bring it to Him.
So I did something I didn’t feel like doing. I worshiped anyway. On that sidewalk, dog on the leash, hands in the air, unworried about the neighbors who might be catching a glimpse of me. Because this wasn’t about appearances. This was a moment when God was inviting me to trust Him, to go more deeply into my relationship with Him. Into my understanding of Him.
So, I worshiped. Not because I felt strong, but because I was being held.
In that small act of faith, I sensed God’s presence in a way I hadn’t expected. My grief didn’t disappear, but I knew I wasn’t alone in it.
Grief’s Many Expressions
God also showed me something beautiful through the brokenness through an art form called Kintsugi. This ancient Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold, leaves the cracks visible but transformed. That is what God has been doing in me, honestly, in our whole family. The death of our son broke me, broke all of us. But God has not discarded the broken pieces. He has been gently restoring them with His presence—filling what was shattered with grace, strength, and love.
Reflecting on His Life
Last week, Noah would have been 30 years old.
And I find myself reflecting on his life.
Milestones not met here.
Missing his laughter, his debates, and the way he could light up a room.
Wishing I could feel one of his big, grounding hugs again.
Missing his presence in our home and his support of our ministry.
I think of our walks on the beach, the conversations we shared, and the gift it was simply to have him with us.
And yet, in the midst of grief, there is peace.
Because I know where he is. No more pain. No more battle. Only wholeness.
I am deeply grateful for the legacy he left, evidenced by our family conversations and the stories we heard about him in the receiving line at his funeral. By the stories we still hear today. I also am deeply grateful for the love that still holds our family together.
Lessons Learned
In the years since his passing, God has been teaching me to see His thoughtful presence in the smallest places—quiet reminders that He has not abandoned us, even in sorrow.
Not everything makes sense. Not everything is healed. But God is here.
And maybe that is the invitation in grief—not to understand everything, but to know God’s presence and care in the middle of it.
If you are walking through grief today—of any kind—you are not alone.
You are not being judged in your sorrow.
You are not being rushed through it.
You are not abandoned in it.
You are invited.
To come as you are.
To bring the weight you carry.
And to find that even here, God is near.
