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(Isaiah 41:10) "...Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
This series explores how God speaks to us. Part 18: Grief — the normal response to losing something precious.
TESTIMONY - For years, I lived under the same relentless grief. Night after night, the nightmares came, and my mother—fierce and faithful—did everything she could. She would find me on the stairs, shaking and screaming, her face wet with tears. She called the priest, she walked the rooms with prayer and blessing, she would not let me fight alone. Still, the thing called, and like a hooked fish, I felt I had no choice but to answer.
I hadn’t met Jesus then, and I learned the hard way people survive—by shutting down, by hardening, by whatever small, stubborn survival tricks I could conjure. She had placed a crucifix above my bed, and I remember staring up and wondering how someone nailed to a cross could help me. The question lived in me like a small, aching doubt.
One night, the demonic call came again. I moved on automatically, climbed the landing, trying to outrun the fear. I tried a plan born of childish bravery: I spun, jumped the bannister, and forgot the dark. I hit the floor with a crack that rang through me—my ankle broken, my shoulder slammed into the wall. Pain and fear blurred together, but adrenaline pushed me on. I scrambled to the bannister, hooked my arm, and saw it at last—not a totally grotesque monster but something eerily beautiful, hair flowing, pulsing light—and a face full of cold triumph. My mouth dried; I could not call for help.
Then everything changed. In the middle of that terror, something came alongside me—some Presence, some Force—so real I could not name it. The pull stopped. The thing’s triumph broke into stunned confusion. It bowed its head, said, “I am sorry. I will not come to you again,” and vanished. I collapsed as my mother rushed out to me, falling on me and crying prayers to Jesus. I went to the hospital with a fractured ankle and bruised shoulder, but I went under the shelter of her love and His Divine protection.
Looking back, two truths stand out: my mother’s fierce love, and her total belief in this Jesus—that began to hold me. They didn’t erase the scars, but they opened a path to healing and the knowledge that I was not alone.
If you’re in that dark place, you are not alone. Help can come in small, steady ways—someone’s prayer, a caring hand, and the patient presence of God—and with one gentle step at a time, there is hope.
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Let’s pray, “Heavenly Father, You have promised not to leave us or forsake us. Help us to cling to Your Word. Breathe peace into our trembling hearts, steady our steps, and replace doubt with the quiet courage of Your presence. Help me to receive the small, faithful hands You send—prayers, care, and truth—and to take the next gentle step toward healing. Remind me that Your strength is made perfect in my weakness, and that I am held by a righteous hand that will not let me go." Amen!
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URGENT PRAYER REQUESTS (Please keep checking as more are being added almost daily)