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About three months ago, I suffered a tremendous loss - the death of my beloved mother. The days following her passing were arduously long and involved. I realized that sometimes, a single word can define an entire situation. During this time, that word for me was "aftermath." I was in the dense aftermath of an explosion which left tattered remnants of people's lives - one of which was my own - in its wake. For some time, I walked amidst grief's suffocating, gloomy overcast. So inescapable was this murk that I finally understood what it meant to "walk through the valley of the shadow of death" (Psalm 23:4 KJV). Looking back, I realize that I was not at all functional; that the things I helped accomplish only transpired as God carried me through this time period. Reading the scriptures and whispering constant, half-formed prayers were the only things I had either the will or energy to accomplish.

Scripture speaks clearly of these moments:

"...the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will."
-Romans 8:26-27 NIV

Though I immediately began to see God's hand at work in this tragedy, each new day gives the event new perspective. Many of my mother's works have been brought to light since her passing, clearly illustrating the love of God which she carried within her heart as she walked through life. I am thankful that her transition away from this world was mercifully swift and painless; and I am infinitely relieved that she was spared from the slow, torturous demise which her failing health and my occupational awareness told me she would probably succumb to.

Jesus once said, "he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live" (John 11:25 KJV). I know my mother believed in Christ and loved him dearly, therefore I know she lives on. Furthermore, Paul the apostle once reminded us that when we are "away from the body," we are "at home with the Lord" (2 Cor 5:8 NIV). Thus, I don't mourn for her, but I celebrate her return home from a world whose hardships I've become so familiar with. I do, however, suffer from the physical void which her loss has left within me; and it is this void which brought gloom to my world.

My loss had left me feeling incomplete. It was as if one of my body parts had been amputated. I could still feel the site where the limb used to be, but could no longer access it - yet it's phantom pain remained palpably real. However, as I am still alive, I now realize that - just as one who has lost a limb - I must learn to carry on even though part of me is missing. I must adapt to the effects which this change has exerted upon my life. Though I had begun to wonder if void's shadow would ever be lifted - if light would ever again return to that excised piece of my heart - I have seen brightness begin to return. I have experienced moments not tainted by despair's oily murk. I have begun to smile again. Though I realize I will always miss mom, I take comfort in knowing that I will see her again someday. But for now, there is work to do...because, as mom well knew, "the harvest is plentiful but the workers are few" (Matthew 9:37 NIV).