Her Son Died at 27…

Today She Returned to Worship

Welcome, loves, to Soulful Sunday.

This is the space where I slow down, breathe, and lean into the quiet moments that touch my heart. Here, I honor my story, my struggles, and the tiny sparks of grace that carry me through.

No judgment. No expectations. Just truth, reflection, and the kind of tenderness that reminds us we are alive, we are feeling, and we are healing together.

It is Sunday… so…

I wanted to reflect on something that happened today.

My roommate, my good friend, my sister in spirit, came back to church with me for the first time since she endured the kind of pain that breaks a soul.

She lost her son. He was only twenty-seven years old, and he overdosed on meth/fentanyl. He had a beautiful heart, a kind soul, a young man who battled addiction but loved deeply.

Walking through those church doors again was heavy for her. I know this because I feel others’ energy stronger than I sometimes want to, and I felt every bit of hers wash over me.

I felt her heartbreak.
Her ache that no mother should ever carry.
Her weight settled on my chest like a storm cloud refusing to move.

Standing beside her while we worshiped, tears rolling down both our faces, it hit me how fragile life is.

And how powerful faith becomes when we are holding on by the thinnest thread.

You do not have to believe what I believe, and I am not here to convert anyone. Just speak my heart.

I am non-denominational, and I believe in the Lord with my whole heart. I believe he sent his son to die for our sins. I believe he wants a connection with each one of us, even when we are messy, broken, healing, rebuilding, and/or surviving. That’s my belief.

Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit have carried me through more nights than I can count. And as I step into this abundant season of my life, I thank God every single day.

And then, because life has a way of placing sweetness on the hard days

My roommate surprised me with an early Christmas gift. (Yes, in her grief, I get a present… that speaks volumes of her soul)

A Bible with coloring pages. A whole coloring Bible. Like seriously!!

I just stood there thinking, Lord, look at you, knowing I needed something to calm my spirit and feed my creativity at the same time.

So yes, I will now be coloring in my Bible like the grown ass woman child of God that I am. And honestly, it made my whole day.

Faith. Healing. Friendship. Grief. Joy.
Somehow, it all lives together.

So today reminded me that even in the hurt, God is still moving. He is still comforting. He is still showing up. And sometimes He shows up in the form of a Bible you can color in or a friend to just be there with you.

So? What is the part that got me the most?

In all her pain, in the middle of her grief that crushes a mountain, she still thought of me. And all I could think about was her.
—Her heart.
—Her loss.
—Her strength.

Her standing in that church with a trembling kind of courage that most people will never understand.

It humbled me. It softened me. It reminded me that even in our darkest valleys, God still weaves moments of love and connection through the people who walk beside us.

That early Christmas gift, that coloring Bible, was not just a present. It was her way of saying, I see you too… even in my grief.

And that meant everything.

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Thank you, loves, for staying with me through this reflection today.

I know some of what I share can feel heavy, tender, or raw, and I am so grateful that you chose to sit here with me, heart to heart.

Your presence matters. Your willingness to feel, to reflect, and to hold space for yourself and others is a gift… to you, to me, and to the world around you.

I hope as you step into the rest of your day, you carry a little more peace, a little more light, and a gentle reminder that even in our struggles, there is beauty, love, and grace.

Thank you for making this Soulful Sunday a shared space of healing and connection.

I see you, I honor you, and I am grateful for you.