I’ve tried to write this post so many times in the past week, only to find I don’t know what to say or how to begin or how to perfectly paint the picture of all that has happened in the past two weeks. At the beginning of this month, on a Sunday morning, my sweet sister Lauren passed away. My mother’s words ring in my head–she had a miraculous death.
Every time I prayed for my sister as we were dealing with her cancer I found myself always coming back to the word merciful. Praying for God’s mercy–with her, with my mother, with my family. And that feels like exactly the gift we were given.
It feels odd to describe a death as “good”. It doesn’t ignore the sadness and the grief, but it does recognize that she left us with no pain, no fear. It was gentle, and merciful.
And as we all gathered in her room, around her bed and prayed for her and for us and let her go, just a little bit of gratitude crept into my heart as well. That God was merciful. That we were all there. That we will see her again. That her body is now new and restored.