My Grief Today and How it has Changed

It has been 133 days, or 19 weeks, or 4 months and 11 days since we lost Hannah. My grief has been a constant, unexpected series of changes. I never know what to expect from one day to the next.

It used to comfort me to walk into Hannah’s bedroom and see all of her cowgirl boots, belt buckles, hats, and clothing scattered around the room. Seeing her Boot Barn badge, perfumes, jewelry, and makeup on her dresser would almost convince me that she was soon coming home to get ready for work.


In those first few weeks, I would sometimes spray a bit of her perfume on one of her blouses, hold it close, and try to remember her scent, attempting to imagine her here with me. Or I would look for clothing that hadn’t been washed yet, just to try to smell her scent on it again.

Today, that has changed.


I can’t even go into her room now without falling apart. We shared a closet in her room since she had moved out a few years ago and only recently moved back in with us. Many of her things, along with some of mine, are now harmoniously mingled together in the room because our tastes were so very similar.


I also have a cabinet and shelving in her room where I kept all my cowgirl boots. When she moved back in, my closet became home to some of her clothes, and the whole room is filled with her cowgirl boots as well as mine. It’s an embarrassing amount of western wear.

We loved our cowgirl boots!


We have kept the door closed since her death.

I think it’s like a candle. When you keep the lid on it, the next time you open it, the scent seems more intense. Well, now when I walk into her room, the scent of leather and the beautiful scent of Hannah hit me right in the face.

It’s overwhelming.


I have to mentally prepare myself before opening the door. Memories flood back in, and the longing to wrap my arms around her is almost unbearable. Seeing her pictures rip my heart out.


Just for clarity, we haven’t made a shrine to Hannah. I just can’t bear the thought of getting rid of her things. Maybe one day I will be able to donate some of it, box up a few special things, and put them away. But today is not that day, and I don’t anticipate it being anytime soon.


Mental Changes and Grief Brain

After we lost Hannah, a lot of people told me to expect to experience “grief brain.” I didn’t really understand at the time what that meant or what it would look like.

Today, I know it all too well.


I googled it to give you a clearer picture of the symptoms. This is an AI-generated Google overview:

Grief brain fog after losing a child is a profound neurobiological response. It stems from the brain diverting massive amounts of energy to process emotional trauma and manage the broken attachment bond. This leaves minimal cognitive capacity for daily functioning, causing severe mental fatigue, forgetfulness, and disorientation.

Common Cognitive Symptoms:

• Trouble focusing: Inability to sustain attention on conversations, reading, or work tasks.
• Memory lapses: Forgetting routine words, names, recent events, appointments, or why you entered a room.
• Executive dysfunction: Struggling or failing to make even simple, everyday decisions, such as what to wear or what to eat.
• Misplacing items: Frequently losing keys, phones, or important household objects.
• Mental sluggishness: Feeling as though your thoughts are moving through thick mud or quicksand. Finding it hard to make sentences or clearly express your thoughts.

Physical and Emotional Overlap:

• Chronic exhaustion: Deep physical and mental fatigue that sleep does not fix.
• Spaciness or unreality: Feeling detached from your body, surroundings, or current reality.
• Overwhelm: Simple noises, choices, or interactions feeling entirely too loud or heavy to bear.
• Social overwhelm: Lacking the desire or patience to meet people for lunch, visits, or other social engagements and preferring to be completely alone or alone with immediate family.

I have found my grief brain to be especially frustrating.
For instance, coming home from prison one day, I took a wrong exit on the interstate. I have no idea why. I’ve never taken that exit, and I surely had not forgotten my way home. My ministry partner was with me, and I asked her, “Why on earth did I take this exit?”
She replied, “I just thought you needed to go somewhere I didn’t know about.”

We laughed about it then, but I found it very unsettling.



I worry more now about preaching because I’m afraid my words will come out wrong. Yesterday in the prison, I was halfway through a point, and I completely forgot where I was headed. I paused and asked the men to forgive me because my “grief brain” was interfering. Fortunately, most of these men have grieved with me and prayed for me through this whole tragedy. They assured me it was okay.


Sometimes I can’t find the right word, even when it’s such a common word a kindergartner would know it. Or I find myself talking and say part of a word without finishing it, or I say the wrong word altogether.
That’s also very unsettling.


If I had not been warned about these things, and researched it a bit, I would have most definitely believed I was losing my mind. So, if you are struggling with any of these symptoms, please know you are not alone.
Grief brain truly is a thing!


A good change in my grief journey has been the increased urgency to minister again.


My hubby was the one who encouraged me to start ministering again. I didn’t think I could do it ever again, 3 months ago. But I’m grateful for a husband who, I sometimes think, knows me better than I do.


He said, “Hon, if you sit here at home, you will dwell on the trauma, the loss, and all the memories and become more depressed. God called you to minister, and that is what you love. You are most happy when you are out preaching the gospel and seeing lives changed by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
And he was right.


I’ll admit, those first few services were really hard, even attending our own home church. No one talks about how hard it is to step back into church when you are grieving and doing everything in your power to hide your anger at God.

But He sees it, and He’s not offended by our questioning. He understands it, completely. But we can't stay there.


So, the good news is that ministry has gotten easier.

Not just easier, but exciting!
I’ve had so many people tell me that the crushing pain of a devastating loss brings a greater anointing. I will say, that seems to be the case so far.


But, getting to this point wasn’t easy.


I still long to see Hannah every single day. In the beginning, I didn’t care if I lived or died because I just wanted to go to heaven and see her again. Looking back, I realize that would have been so unfair to Bryan and Haley, and I really wouldn't have wanted to leave them because I love them so much.

But my heart was torn between heaven and earth. All I could think about was running to Hannah, arms outstretched, hugging her with all my might while telling her how much I love her. 


But one day Jesus asked me if it was more important for me to see Hannah or to see Him. Ouch.


In the beginning, that was a very difficult question, and with my feelings toward God at that time, my answer would have easily been Hannah.
But as I have drawn closer to Him through the pain, and as He has quieted me with His love so many times, my answer has changed.


I definitely want to see my baby girl and hold her again--I long for that day. But first of all, I want to run to my Savior and pour out my love on Him. Without Jesus coming to earth, suffering, and dying for the sins of all of humanity, none of us would have the hope of seeing any of our loved ones again.

But Jesus made a way!


Praise


One of the other things people told me to do was praise through the pain. Admittedly, that was a very hard one!


I still loved God, but I was so angry, I wanted to withhold my worship. Not only that, but every song about the goodness and faithfulness of God cut like a rusty, serrated knife. It infuriated me. How do you sing about God’s goodness and love when He has allowed you to lose your  child?


It was an inner fight.


My first Sunday back in church hurt so badly that I didn’t think I would ever be able to attend again. In fact, it took quite some time before we tried again. Sadly, the second time was just as bad.
A couple of months passed before we could even fathom trying again.


But then, once again, another good change!


Last Sunday, I was able to attend my home church, raise my hands despite the tears, and worship God in honesty.

Ah, this must be what it means to worship in Spirit and in truth! (John 4:24) Sometimes the truth is that we are hurting, brokenhearted, and weeping uncontrollably on the inside hoping no one else can see.


But even with that truth, we simply raise our hands, focus on God, and trust that He knows what He is doing, even when we don’t see it. We also trust that He sees our feeble efforts to lift a hallelujah when the pain of our grief would have us run to the restroom and shake uncontrollably with sobs from a heart so wounded.

And if that’s what we need to do, that’s fine too.
He’ll be there to meet us!

He also recognizes when our praise is a sacrifice. And to be honest, many days it still is. But we press on and press in. When we do that, things begin to shift and peace settles in.

You see, we must remember, praise is a weapon and it breaks strongholds. And most importantly, it makes the devil mad! And when he get's mad, he retreats. That's why he tries so hard to hinder our praise and worship.

David Crowder said it best, "I Got Something Make the Devil Gonna Run!" If you haven't heard that song, look it up. I promise that's his grammar, not mine.


Next, I had to get my routine back. Instead of avoiding the Word of God, I had to get back into it again. And I had to make prayer and praying in the Holy Spirit a priority.


The Holy Spirit is my best friend and always has been.
I needed time to let Him minister to me personally.
I collected an unimaginably tall stack of devotionals. It looks like a game of Jenga using books on my living room end table. I must carefully remove the one I want to read first, or the whole tower will tumble to the floor.


I then had to allow Jesus to reset my thinking. (Philippians 4:8)
I read many devotionals and books about grief and tried to learn everything I could about it, and how to carry it. But ultimately, I had to start thinking on things that were true, pure, lovely and of good report (I know my Missionette sisters hear me) and quit dwelling on the mental images of Hannah's death.


I also had to reframe the tragedy in my mind.


Instead of looking at Hannah’s death as “The horrible thing” Satan used for my destruction, I had to look at it as “A horrible thing” Satan used to crush me that backfired on him and released a greater anointing in my life! The longer we look at our tragedy as the thing that happened, the more it remains our focus, singling us out and making us feel like we are the only ones who have experienced this. Or, even worse it becomes our giving up point.


But when we change that lens and see it as a thing that happened, it can’t take over our lives, causing us to believe we are the only ones to endure this pain. We begin to understand that this is a thing that has happened to many people, and not the thing that will destroy us.


So, for today, August 14, 2026, it is well. It isn’t great. It isn’t the best I’ve ever felt, and it never will be this side of heaven.
It is manageable.


I do believe staying busy with ministry has helped me not to focus on my pain twenty-four hours a day. And I know seeing the way the Holy Spirit is moving and ministering through me after the crushing has been thrilling. It keeps me clinging to Jesus and expecting more each time I step into the pulpit.


But having never passed this way before, I have no idea what tomorrow, next week, or next month will look like. Grief is ever-changing.
It is uncharted territory for everyone who, unfortunately, must voyage through it. But as long as Jesus is the Captain of our vessel, He will make a way. Trust Him.


In all this, don’t be discouraged if your grief is not tracking the same as someone else’s. Remember, we all grieve in our own way and in our own timing. No one can rush your heart. We all have to learn how to carry it, and every day it presents with a different-sized load. Be gentle with yourself.
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I only share my thoughts in the hope that someone else walking this path will be encouraged and know they are not alone. At four months and eleven days into my own journey, I take no claim in being anywhere close to an expert on grief. I just pray that God will give you peace and help you navigate your own tumultuos sea of sorrow.


Genesis 50:20 continues to be one of my favorite “life verses.”

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”


I will live my life to make Satan rue the day! I hope you will too.

Love and blessings!

Will the Pain Ever End?

I thought I was doing well. I stepped back into ministry, and God was moving. People were still getting saved, healed, baptized in the Holy Spirit, and delivered. There is nothing in this world that excites my heart more than serving God to bring Him glory. I feel closest to Him when I am ministering and partnering with Him in Kingdom work.


I’ve been busy planning events, studying for upcoming services, and slowly moving forward. I still cry EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Even on my busiest days, there is a dark cloud lingering in the background just waiting for an opportunity to overshadow me. Then the rain begins to pour from my eyes as painful memories, like lightning bolts, strike all around me.


Where’s the balance?


Sometimes I feel like I need to stay busy so I’m not consumed by the pain. Other times I feel guilty because I’m not sitting on the couch with a box of tissues, succumbing to the pain. So, I do both. Sometimes I sit with my grief and cry on Jesus' shoulder. He gets it. And at other times, I run as fast as I can, trying to outrun the memories.


There are times, like this past weekend, when we go away for a short family vacation just to try to leave the pain behind. That’s when it becomes most obvious that there is a gaping hole in our family. For the first few days, I was fine. There were new things to see and do, new places to explore.


But then I wanted to text Hannah and tell her all the things we were doing. I wanted to send her photos so she could text back with some smart-aleck remark about how we left her behind, even though we begged her to go, but she had other plans.
That was our Hannah.


There are moments that hit like a punch to the gut, and they literally take the wind out of you. For example, one day I was walking through the mall when I saw a young woman who looked just like Hannah from behind. She was dressed exactly the same, had the exact same hairstyle, and the same youthful figure.


I desperately wanted her to turn around, see me, and say, “Hey, Mom! Let’s go check out Boot Barn.”


But it was not my daughter.


Other times, I walk by someone wearing her perfume, and the memories come flooding back. And then there are days like yesterday, when we were driving back to the cabin from the ice cream shop, and her song came on the radio.


Her sweet voice filled the vehicle, and her photo popped up on the screen as the artist. My milkshake lost all its flavor. My heart felt like it had been placed in a vice and clamped down with incredible force. A lump the size of Texas formed in my throat, and the tears came uncontrollably.


So, will this pain ever end?


The answer, I’m discovering, is both heartbreaking and hopeful. No, the love never ends, so the ache never completely disappears. But it changes. It becomes something you learn to carry. Some days it is unbearably heavy. Other days, it rests quietly beside you while you smile again. The pain doesn’t vanish, but neither does hope.


There are times I feel like I just can’t do it anymore. But even though sorrow endures for the night, joy will ultimately come in the morning. We just don’t always know how long the night will be. But there will be joy. There will be happy moments and laughter. Unfortunately, it doesn’t mean the pain has ended. It simply means morning has come. But as surely as morning comes, night will fall again.


So, to answer the question, the pain will become less intense over time. It will come and go, but you will survive and eventually thrive.


We must learn to carry the pain in our own way. Your grief will not look like my grief or anyone else’s. Your grief is uniquely yours, shaped by the depth of love you hold in your heart for your loved one and the millions of memories you have of them. There will be days when the memories make you cry and other times when they make you laugh or smile.


It’s like being adrift at sea. Fierce storms will come and toss your boat all over the place, battering your fragile heart until the pain feels unbearable. Other days, you will bask in the sun on the upper deck, smiling over the many beautiful memories that come blowing through on the peaceful tropical breeze. And other times there will be a gentle rain, where you sit in the cabin with silent tears as steady as the falling salty raindrops.


None of your feelings are wrong. Don’t be shocked when you’ve gone a week or even a month feeling okay, only to wake up one day and feel like you can’t move.

Dreams

Dreams are the worst. No one warns you about them. I can tell I’m going to have a really bad day if I dream about Hannah the night before.


Last night I had a dream I’ve had some version of before. I was sitting on the living room sofa when Hannah walked in through the back door. She walked over, plopped down on the piano bench, and began playing and singing the most beautiful, otherworldly song I had ever heard.


I started talking to her, asking how she could possibly be here. She laughed and said, “Mom, you must be some kind of special to Jesus because sometimes He tells me to go visit my mom for a little while.”


We both laughed.


I asked if I could touch her. I was afraid my hands would go straight through her and she would vanish from sight. But I wrapped my arms around her, and I felt her body, her actual, living, breathing, talking body.


Next, Bryan walked in the door. He looked completely shocked and said, “Hannah?”
She gave him her biggest grin and said, “Yes?”
I looked at Bryan and said, “Look! You can hug her!”


She laughed, hugged us both, and told us she loved us. Then she said, “Well, I gotta go. Jesus is calling.” And just like that, she was gone.


Overwhelming peace and joy flooded our hearts. We talked about when she might be allowed to visit us again.


Then I woke up.


The tears came as I realized it had only been a dream. Oh, how I wish it could be possible.


If Hannah had to come back to visit us, I know she would be mad about it. I'm confident that what she is experiencing now in Heaven is far greater than her very best day on earth.


But truth be told, I’m struggling today because of that dream and how real it felt. I’m crying as I type this. The pain is intense. But the moments of joy are just as intense when they come. I can have that joy because I know I will one day join Hannah for all eternity.


Joy will come in the morning.


We have this hope because God was willing to give His one and only Son up to death so He could make a way for us to be with Him and with our loved ones again. Jesus defeated sin and the grave when He rose again and returned to His true home.


Maybe you are grieving today and struggling beneath the weight of your pain. If Jesus is your Savior, you are not without hope. The greatest future you could ever imagine is waiting for you in Heaven, your real home, for all eternity.


Revelation 21:4 (NIV)
"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

Think on These Things
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One of the hardest things about losing a loved one is the constant "what ifs." What if I had been there? What if we had noticed something wasn't right? What if we had been better parents? What if, what if, what if?


Then there's the "whys."


God, why did You allow this to happen? Why did she have to die? Why couldn't You have stepped in and stopped it? Why do I have to live the rest of my life in total pain and misery, longing for my daughter? Why didn't You love us enough to protect us from such trauma and loss?


Then the begging begins.


"God, please let me know she's okay. Please let me know she is with You. Please give me a dream or a vision and let me have just a glimpse of her in heaven with You. Then I know I would have peace."


The problem with all of these questions is that we rarely get an answer. But the more we question ourselves and God, the more depressed we become. And the more we begin to place the blame upon ourselves, the deeper into that dark pit we fall.


The thing we must remember is this: Jesus doesn't condemn us. But there is one who does, and his name is Satan. He loves to hurt us, hurl false accusations at us, place blame on us, disrupt our peace, cause us to question our faith in God, His goodness, His very existence, and ultimately turn us away from God entirely. After all, John 10:10 tells us the thief (the enemy) has come to steal, kill, and destroy.


This is why we continually long for confirmation from our Heavenly Father when painful things happen that we can't wrap our minds around. We feel that if we could just see our loved one, hug them, speak to them, and ask them questions, we would have perfect peace. We feel as if we deserve answers, or if God truly loved us, He would grant us this simple request.


Several people send me words of encouragement every day. There hasn't been one single day since we lost Hannah that someone hasn't texted me, messaged me, or sent a card of encouragement. That means so much to me. I just can't express how much that simple act of just checking on me warms my heart.


Many times I receive videos, blogs, or posts from others who have experienced the same kind of loss. I recently received one from a well-known individual who had recently lost a child. This individual had written a long post about how God had granted him the opportunity to go to heaven in a dream or vision and see, talk to, and hug his lost child.


I know it was meant to be encouraging, but honestly, it upset me. Not just for me, but for many other parents out there begging God for dreams and visions of their children. My immediate reaction was, "God, do You love him more than me? I have begged and pleaded with You to give me a dream or vision of my Hannah in heaven with You, but nothing! Why can't You do this simple thing for me? Is she in Hell?"


I hurt for myself, and I hurt for thousands of others who have prayed that same prayer with seemingly no response. And once again, I hold no animosity toward the individual who wrote that post, and I have been praying for his family because our loss happened right before his did.


I hurt for everyone who would ever have to endure such pain. And I praise God for giving them peace in any way He chooses to do so. We also know God doesn't do things the same for every person. He is God, and it's His business how He deals with His children. We need not expect cookie-cutter results.


I'm no neurologist, but I know from experience that when we have lost someone extremely precious to us, our minds want two things: answers and an opportunity to see that loved one again.


And maybe God does grant some people grand visions, dreams, conversations, hugs, and experiences with their loved ones after a devastating loss. But that probably isn't the case for the majority of us, and that can often contribute to even more questions.


So, as I was throwing my little hissy fit about not getting what I wanted, I finally sat down and just wept. Why wouldn't God give me this one thing that would be so easy for Him to do?


And in the stillness, His sweet voice spoke to me again:


"Donna, have I not already assured you that Hannah is with Me? I have shown you in My Holy Word, as just the right words have leapt off the page at precisely the right moment. I have spoken confirming words to you through devotionals you have read that answered your specific questions in remarkable detail immediately after you asked them.

I have given you peace when you have laid your head on your pillow and asked Me how you would ever survive this. And I have given you rest when the stress from your many questions and fears seemed unbearable.


But this I have asked of you, My daughter: walk by faith, not by sight. Cling more tightly to Me and My Word than to your condemning thoughts. Embrace the fact that I AM a good Father, and I AM working all things together for your good. I have asked you to trust Me because you know Me, and I know you.


You need not see what I'm doing now, because you will see it and fully understand everything when we stand face to face. So I ask you to have faith, trusting in the things that are not seen, because the things that are seen are temporary and will still leave you with questions.


Trust Me with all your heart, and remember what you know to be true about ME. Believe that I have promised to never leave or forsake you. I've always been here with you, and I always will be. You will never walk alone, and I will quiet your questioning heart with My love."


Not only did those words comfort me, they caused me to search within myself. For lack of a better phrase, "I know in my knower" that Hannah is with Jesus.


Do I still have moments of doubt and questioning? Absolutely. Because I'm not a superhuman who is above all doubt and fear. I'm just a normal human being like everyone else.


But now when those debilitating thoughts come, I don't start begging for dreams or visions. I spend time with Jesus and time in His Word, allowing Him to correct my faulty thinking, tear down the lies and condemnation of the enemy, and pour peace back into my heart all over again.


We must quickly shut down the lies of the enemy and set our thoughts on what we know to be true about our Father. We must take every thought captive and think on good things, true things, and most often, unseen things. That's what faith is!


Now, scroll back up to that part where God spoke to my heart. Replace my name with your own. I believe He is speaking the same thing to you today. Trust in God. He will carry you through every storm and every trial, no matter how impossible it feels. Though we may have feelings that cause us to question whether God really loves us, you "know in your knower" it's true!


Love and blessings,
Donna


“…The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”
1 Phillippians 4:5-8 (NIV)


“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”   
2 Corinthians 4:18 (NIV)


“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”
Hebrews 11:1 (NIV)


“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”
2 Corinthians 10:5 (NIV)

Preaching Through Pain
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I know this blog may not be for everyone. Some of you may find it very depressing. But I have always tried to be as real and transparent as possible. That’s all I have ever done, and it’s all I will ever do.


I sincerely pray that it is helping someone out there who may be walking this same horrible journey. But if not for anyone else, I know it is helping me. Along with my personal journaling, prayer, and reading the Bible, many devotionals and books dealing with grief have been a source of strength for me.


My heart truly goes out to anyone who is walking this lonely road of traumatic loss and devastating grief. It’s lonely because we all experience grief in our own personal way. I’m sending you virtual hugs right now. We’ve never experienced pain like this.

                                  _________________________


Sometime around the end of October last year, I felt something begin to shift in my world. It wasn’t a good shift. I began waking up around 3:00 a.m. every morning with a heavy sense of dread. It was a panicky feeling that wrought fear in my heart.


I would immediately begin to pray. I asked God to please protect my whole family, keep us safe, and keep us out of harm’s way. But it continued to happen several times a month. I finally began to feel like something ominous was hovering over our lives, and I had no idea when it was going to descend upon us. I continued to pray.


Then God began to give me powerful sermons about being refined. I began to preach on “The Refiner’s Fire,” linking it to the fiery furnace and to Joseph’s unfathomable journey from the pit to the palace, back to the pit, and back to the palace again. God was moving powerfully through those sermons, but now I wonder if those messages were intended mostly for me.


Still, the dread and fear continued to wake me in the early morning hours, and I continued to pray for protection for my family and all of my loved ones. I felt as if an “enormous thing” was going to happen.


A few hurtful things happened during that time. Certainly, they were not devastating things, but they were discouraging and unexpected. I wondered, “Is that what the dread was about?” No. The nagging feeling remained.


One after another, events began to happen that caught me off guard and caused deeper distress as they increased in severity. After each occurrence, I would think, “Well, that surely must have been the enormous thing!” But no, the feeling of dread continued.


                                   Warnings or Preparation?

For the past few years, I have been attending the Acts 6:4 Conference in Texarkana, Texas. It’s always held during the first week of January. With all these issues happening and the continuing sense of dread, I almost decided not to go.


At the last minute, and after some relentless tugging from the Holy Spirit, I decided I needed to be there. When I arrived, I soon learned the theme of the conference was “Preaching Through Pain.” Coincidence? Maybe. Hopefully...


As each speaker took the platform and began to minister on how God empowered them to preach through some of the most mind-bending pain of their lives, I got the overwhelming feeling that this conference was for me. Not because of what I had been through, but because of what I was about to go through.


Then Pastor Sam Rijfkogel, pastor of Grand Rapids First Assembly in Wyoming, Michigan, took the platform. He began to speak of his precious daughter, Sarah, and her battle with Stage 4 colon cancer at the age of twenty-seven.


Sarah was a worship leader with a powerful anointing and a beautiful voice, much like my Hannah. Their worship styles were similar. Sarah fearlessly led worship until she physically couldn’t do it anymore.


Sarah fought cancer. Hannah fought depression. It might appear to some as though cancer won in Sarah’s battle and depression won in Hannah’s. But death did not win! I definitely believe they are both worshiping today before the throne of God.


I wept like a baby through Pastor Sam’s entire message. I couldn’t believe how powerful it was and how anointed he was in sharing such a heart-wrenching experience. What a devastating loss! How could he even go on after that?


But even then, I still had no idea.


On the way home from the conference, I told my friend Sue, “I think that whole conference was meant for me. I feel like I’m about to go through something really, really hard, some enormous thing, and God is going to ask me to preach through my pain.”


I honestly thought I was going to be diagnosed with some life-threatening disease. I didn't want to be caught off guard, so I made sure I got all my physical exams taken care of. Nothing was wrong. My doctor said everything looked good, and all my test results were perfect.


In mid-January, God gave me the vision for a camp meeting with the theme “Unshakable.” I organized it, and registration filled up almost immediately. But I had no idea my faith was going to be shaken to the core. My whole world was about to be shaken by a 9.5-magnitude earthquake.


Our dearly loved and cherished daughter, Hannah, took her own life. This was the enormous thing.


Though my whole family and I were shaken, God wasn’t. Nothing surprises God or catches Him off guard. He intentionally gave me that theme and the Scripture He wanted me to use for this year’s camp meeting, and He knew exactly what I would go through before it even arrived.


When we lost Hannah suddenly and unexpectedly, I didn’t think I could survive it. I had to make a decision: blame God and turn away from Him, or run into His arms for comfort and healing.


This was the moment when Satan had attempted to sift me. Did I truly believe what I preached about God? When the unthinkable happens, is God still good? Is He still a loving God?


Now it was up to me. Would I be able to preach through my pain? And if so, how? I can’t even see through my own tears most days.
This was definitely the most enormous thing I had ever encountered. This was the reason for all my dread. All along the way, I had this horrible feeling of fear and sorrow. And this was why... our precious Hannah.


I asked God, “Why would You allow me to have this horrible sense of fear and dread and not allow me to see something, do something, or prevent this? Why didn’t You do something?”


He softly whispered, “I did. I had you pray, not only for yourself, but most of all for your family and all your loved ones in preparation for the pain you were all going to go through. My Holy Spirit prayed through you, for you, when you didn't have the words nor knowledge of what was to come. And I have not left your side for one second of this pain. Even though you might not have felt Me there. Even when you wanted to push Me away, I stayed. And I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”


Though I had hundreds of questions and admittedly ran to Him again and again, pounding His chest with my fists and demanding that He tell me why, this one thing remained true: my world, my life, my joy, and my heart might have been shaken, but my faith in God my Father and my faith in His truth were not. He had been there all along, silently preparing me for the unspeakable pain to come, and then wrapping His loving arms around me through it all, and even now.


So...I must continue to preach what I know to be true about God. I might have to walk through excruciating pain and heartbreak for the rest of my life, but He is walking with me, carrying me when I can’t walk, and nothing I do for Him will ever be in vain.


I have determined to remain unshakable in my faith in God because He is unshakable in His love and faithfulness to me.


Yes! I will preach through my pain, just as you will. Even though you may or may not stand behind a pulpit or speak to huge audiences of people, your life is still preaching. People are still watching to see whether you stand strong through your “enormous thing” and continue to believe in God.


They will wonder: Has your foundation been shaken to the point of crumbling beneath you, causing you to fall away from Him? Will you still trust God after He allowed such tragic pain to befall you or your family? Will you even survive?


My prayer for you, for all of us, is that we will always hold fast to the One who cannot be shaken, our God, who knows all the details when we can make no sense of them at all. May our actions and our love for Him speak even more loudly as we preach through our pain.


“...my loved brothers and sisters, you must stand firm, unshakable, excelling in the work of the Lord as always, because you know that your labor isn’t going to be for nothing in the Lord.”
1 Corinthians 15:58 CEB (emphasis mine)


“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.”
2 Corinthians 1:3-5 (NIV)
​

Preach through your pain, and if necessary, use words.
Love always,
Donna

A Whole Lotta Questions


I cannot tell you how many questions I've asked God since we lost Hannah. Over and over and over, the questions rise up like tsunamis of unrelenting grief and pain. They bombard my mind constantly. One of the hardest things I've had to accept is that I will never know the answers on this side of Heaven. It is really hard to be okay with that.


I've prayed for both of my girls all their lives. I have pleaded with God to keep them safe and never let any harm befall them. I've asked Him to guard their hearts from deception and keep them in His will. I've begged Him to give them peace of mind and help them always know and remember their worth.


I have prayed for God to send them the spouses He handpicked for them. I trusted that He would do all those things and more. Since my girls were born, I've never once doubted His love for me, my girls, and Bryan. Through every hardship and difficulty in life, I've seen His goodness and stood firm, with no fear of the future.


Until one day.


In one moment, it seemed my whole view of God was shattered.


How?


God, why would You allow this to happen to my baby girl? To us? To our whole family?


GOD, I TRUSTED YOU!


As I said before, I have prayed for Hannah her entire life. We have loved her with every fiber of our being. We tried our best to provide everything she could possibly need or want. We always affirmed her and told her how beautiful and gifted she was. We smothered her with affection. We sent her to Christian schools, and when she wanted to attend The Ramp School of Ministry in Hamilton, Alabama, to pursue her calling as a worship pastor, we made it happen.


God, what did we do wrong?


SILENCE


So God, why pray to You? What good does it do to pray if You are going to do whatever You want regardless? If You are going to allow the enemy of our souls to touch our lives? Why couldn't You just heal her depression and take away every negative thought? Why couldn't You allow us to see her depression so we could do something to help? Why were we blindsided?


I'll admit that my pain has been so great that I even began to yell, "God, are You even there? Do You even exist? Do you see me?"


I'm ashamed to admit that I even accused Him of not loving or caring for me.


And still...


SILENCE


Tears and more tears. Uncontrollable sobs. Sitting for hours, staring out the window, wishing I could hold my baby girl just one more time. Devastated. Crushed. Desperate. Begging God to let me wake up from the nightmare and see her walking through the door saying, "What's for dinner, Mom?"


NOTHING


Then I look at the end table next to the loveseat where I'm sitting.


My Bible.


Angrily, I snatch it up. I want to toss it across the room in a fit of rage. But instead, I open its pages and begin to read.


I can't begin to tell you what I was reading or where I was reading, but the Holy Spirit began to speak.


Even in our anger and harsh questioning, God doesn't get mad at us. We might as well let it out, scream it or shout it. He knows our thoughts anyway.


YOUR TURN. BE QUIET.


Sometimes we have to quiet our hearts and just listen.


In the midst of our pain, in the millions of swirling questions, we must stop and breathe.


After reading for just a little while, I quickly grabbed a pen and began to furiously scribble out the words that were coming to my heart and mind. I'm sharing them with you now in the hope that they will comfort you in your questioning as well.


Run to Jesus


In our hurt and grief, it's often hard to spend time in the Word and with Jesus. But it is only with Him that we gain peace, heart healing, and clarity of mind.


Truth steps in and shines a light where hurt, anger, bitterness, and despair lurk in the dark hours, seeking a way to creep into our hearts.


I've never felt the darkness struggle so relentlessly to break into my mind and thoughts until now. But at the same time, I've never seen my Savior glare so fiercely at the darkness.


He stands as a Champion over the darkness, overpowering it with one tiny stray beam of piercing light.


The darkness gasps as He sweeps me away from all harm and quiets me with His love and compassion. He shelters me, comforts me, and cries over me with empathetic tears.


He whispers confirmations of His ever-present power to show mercy and give grace, and He covers me with hope, love, and peace beyond my ability to comprehend.


I'm confounded by how He deals so fiercely with the enemy and so gently and tenderly with me.


Finally, my thoughts are stirred to remember His great love that He has lavished upon us all. That same love that drove Him to willingly endure unimaginable pain, even death on a cross. And as we drove in the nails, He looked beyond it all and asked the Father to forgive us because we didn't know what we were doing.


His one desire was to destroy the works of darkness, and that unfathomable separation called death and the grave.


HE PAID IT ALL.


And through His all-sufficient sacrifice, He defeated that once-foreboding darkness and eternal separation to which we all were destined.


His blood has covered all our sins. We were bought with a price. We are His, and nothing can separate us from His great love.


So now He glares at the darkness when all Hell seeks to wreak havoc in our minds and provoke pain in our souls. His heart burns with anger at the darkness because He knows, better than all of us, that death is a liar.


The debt has been paid. The victory has been won.


Jesus IS the Champion.


Satan, and his companion death, are both liars. Satan loves to torment God's children. He drives us to question the One who truly loves us, sees us, and feels the pain we feel.


Satan wants us to remain angry with God. He wants to keep us from God's Word, lure us into the darkest nights, and prevent us from experiencing the peace that comes from truth.


Jesus has given us hope, and Satan has set out to steal it. He attempts to make us blame God instead of realizing he, Satan himself, is the source of our pain and suffering.


So in our striving, our questioning, and our wrestling with God, Jesus deals with us so tenderly. He sings over us and speaks peace, reminding us of the hope we have in Him and the promise that we will be with our loved ones who have gone before us for all eternity.


So yes, it's okay to question God. Sometimes we need to wrestle with Him and with our questions.


He will never fail to love us. He paid far too high a price to adopt us as His own and then abandon us. He sympathizes with us in our weakness, and He knows us better than we know ourselves and loves us just the same.


Spend some time in His presence today. He can handle your questions.


But also remember: this life is just a vapor. We will be with our loved ones soon.


And oh, the times we will have.

"The Lord your God is with you,
    the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
    in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
    but will rejoice over you with singing.”
Zephaniah 3:17 (NIV)

"No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers,  neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Romans 8:37-39 (NIV)

Grief Is Not Linear. Now I Get It.
​
Right after we lost Hannah, many people told us, “Remember, grief is not linear.” What does that even mean?
All I knew was that my world had just fallen apart, and nothing would ever be the same again. We couldn’t see anything past our agony.


During Hannah’s visitation and memorial service, I was completely numb. I know that in those early days, Jesus was holding me because, looking back now, I have no idea how I survived it.


Bryan, Haley, and I stood beside Hannah’s casket and greeted the more than four hundred people who came to offer their condolences. It was astounding to see all who came to show their love and support. I couldn’t believe how many pastors and their wives had driven many miles to be there with us. It truly blessed our hearts.


Some of our former co-workers, high school classmates, church family, ladies I’ve ministered to in the jail, and people from various churches poured in and hugged and cried with us. A few of Bryan’s superiors flew in from different states to be there, as well as many of those he currently leads or works with.


Friends from Haley’s college came to be with her. Schoolmates, co-workers, and youth group friends all came in support. It was beautiful and comforting.


Add to that all the people who loved Hannah and had been impacted by her life. I soon realized that one of the most heartwarming gifts you can give a grieving family is your physical presence and the gift of sharing memories of how their loved one impacted your life.


Even though we were in complete shock, we remember every individual who came through that line. That also had to be God. I felt like I was in a clear plastic bubble floating above the whole scene—watching, seeing myself going through the motions, but not truly aware that the worst thing that could ever happen in my life had really happened.


Shock. Numbness. Derealization.


There are typically “five stages of grief”—often referred to as the Kübler-Ross model:

• Denial (shock, numbness)
• Anger (at God, at others, or even at the one who has left us)
• Bargaining (all the whys, what-ifs, what-should-haves, and what-could-haves)
• Depression (affects us not only mentally but physically)
• Acceptance (not being “okay” with it, but realizing it really happened; we’ll never get over it, but we have to learn to live in spite of it)

“Grief is not linear.” Now I get it.
It started with shock that immediately changed to bargaining before we even got off the plane. What if I hadn’t gone to Canada? What if she hadn’t been home alone? What if, what if?


Next, I found myself slipping in and out of, “God, why didn’t You do something? You could have prevented this!” There was anger at ourselves, anger at God, and anger over the circumstances as they unfolded. Those thoughts spiraled right back into the what-ifs.


Depression hit almost immediately. It has been woven through every moment of every day.


So yes, it all makes sense now. Grief is not linear. How nice it would be to move through each stage in a particular order and then be completely done with it. Unfortunately, we are never truly done with it.


The stages linger and circle like vultures—as if they are trying to decide what else it will take to destroy us. I can have decent days and then suddenly slip back into shock or denial. Sometimes I can almost convince myself that I’m okay. Yet I’ve found that if I have a good day, it’s often almost impossible to get out of bed the next.


Grief is extremely hard, and we all grieve in different ways. The stages are pretty much the same for all of us, but we do not experience them at the same times as others. There’s no finishing one stage, getting the certificate of completion, and moving on to another. It’s a constant, jumbled-up rotation.


Not experiencing the same stages at the same times has actually been a blessing for us as a family. I believe God has definitely managed that aspect for us. For instance, if I am having a really bad day, Bryan might be having a pretty good day and be strong enough to hold and comfort me—and vice versa.


(If you do not have a close companion, be sure to connect with a close, trustworthy friend or a counselor for support.)


Here’s a good thing to remember about grief: no one can tell you how to feel or when to feel it.


Many well-meaning individuals told me in the beginning, “You will grieve as deeply as you loved. If you loved her deeply, you will grieve over her loss deeply.”


In those first couple of weeks, I thought I would go insane. The shock, numbness, and complete dissociation put me in a state where I wasn’t crying nonstop. On the outside, it appeared that I was handling things much better than everyone else.


Then I started to worry. Did I not love her enough? Why am I not crying more than this? Why do I feel okay right now? Why do I not feel anything at all right now? If we grieve as deeply as we loved, what is this?


I was overwhelmed with guilt, thinking I didn’t love Hannah enough.
What was really happening was that God had kept me in a state of denial and shock for much longer in order to protect me. The initial shock, numbness, and feeling as though we are shut down is a way of emotionally surviving. The brain interprets profound loss as an existential threat to our own survival. So shock and numbness literally help us survive.


I loved—and still love—Hannah deeply and always will. I miss her so much that the pain often feels unbearable, and now that the shock has somewhat diminished, I’ve never been more certain of just how much I love her.


But because I was told—or perhaps because I expected—to grieve in a certain way, I thought I was a horrible mother. Honestly, I thought I was losing my mind.


When the numbness began to taper off, it was as if my heart was ripped wide open, displaying every ounce of love I had for her in the form of unrelenting weeping, even to the point of physical pain and total exhaustion.


So let me assure you: if you find yourself going through the tragic loss of a loved one, give yourself grace. Realize that we all grieve differently, and grief looks completely different for everyone. Grief is definitely not linear.


In speaking with one of my friends about the loss of her child, she told me:
“Grieving a child is like having an extra appendage. It doesn’t work and serves no purpose, but it’s still attached to you. You can’t put it down and leave it. It is part of you forever. So you learn how to carry it—for the rest of your life.”


Hannah consumes my thoughts. Everywhere I go, I find myself asking what Hannah would think of this or that. I imagine us laughing together over things we would have thought were goofy. Throughout the day, I want to text her. I long to go into her room at night and kiss her and tuck her into bed. 


So yes, I will carry her every day of my life. But I will hold on to all of those precious memories and cherish each of them until I see her again.
And I will fix my eyes, not on what is temporary, but on what waits eternally for our family in Heaven.


“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” — 2 Corinthians 4:16–18 NIV
​

“Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in Him. According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord Himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.” — 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18 NIV

​Fifty-four days. My precious daughter, Hannah, has been gone for fifty-four days. She chose to take her own life. There, I said it. It’s out there now, crashing like a tsunami through every minute, every day of my life and every thought. What a horrific fifty-four days it has been.


We never saw it coming. She was so happy when she dropped us off at the airport. There were no signs. Why? How? I keep hoping to wake up from the longest, most excruciating nightmare ever. But I won’t. We won’t. Not me, not my husband Bryan, not my daughter Haley, not her grandparents, or Morgan, the man she was going to marry.


Everyone has told me that every “first” will be almost unbearable, and it’s true. Right after her death, we celebrated her birthday with Morgan and without her for the first time. We chose to go to her favorite restaurant—that had been her request. I had to go to the restroom and completely break down just to get through it. A couple of weeks later, I celebrated Mother’s Day without her. I cried the whole day.


She’s everywhere—in every song, in pictures in our home and on our phones. She’s in every store, sitting on every shelf, hanging on every clothing rack, and all through the grocery section. I see things I know she would have liked, clothing that I would have bought for her if she were still here. (We had the same taste in clothing.) And all of her favorite foods.


I walk into her bedroom, and everything is just like she left it, but now smothered in artificial flower arrangements and gifts from the funeral. I go in there just to try to smell her scent again.


I know this is probably depressing, so I’m going to move along. Besides, there’s no amount of words that could adequately express the pain of losing our 22 year old daughter. At times, it feels completely unbearable.


Satan has been taunting me. He whispers the most vile, upsetting, and heartbreaking words to me. He tries to convince me that Hannah didn’t make it to heaven and that I will never see her again. And even though God has spoken to me many times and confirmed to me that she’s with Him, the enemy still rages on, nagging at me constantly.


But that’s not all. He tells me I will never minister again. He has said the overwhelming grief will not allow me to open my mouth without weeping uncontrollably. He’s said the anointing has lifted off me, and even if I could utter a word, it just won’t be the same—fruitless, meaningless, powerless. He says everything has changed and nothing will ever be the same.


Everything has changed. Nothing is the same without Hannah. Well, almost everything. One thing has remained the same, and that is my faith in God. I do not understand and cannot begin to comprehend His ways, but I know His thoughts and ways are higher than mine. (Isaiah 55:8–9) Along with that, my calling has not changed. In fact, I have felt like a fish out of water these last fifty-four days because I haven’t been ministering at all.


Bryan and several friends have encouraged me to go back, at least to the jail/prisons, just to see how I feel about it. Others have told me, “You may never minister again!” It was hard not to rebuke them on the spot. But I have wondered: Will I be able to minister again, ever?


Last week, I made up my mind. I decided I would go back to the jail to speak to the women the next Tuesday night. That was last night, May 26, 2026. Even if I became a basket case and bawled like a baby in front of them, they would still just be glad to see me—hopefully.


All day yesterday, I was a nervous wreck. I had no idea what to expect. It felt like it had been a year since I ministered, though it had just been shy of two months. I started questioning God: “Am I supposed to do this? Is it too soon? Am I just feeling pressured to go back? Do I need to wait? What do YOU want me to do?” He’s been getting a lot of questions from me lately.


I have many devotionals I read on a daily basis during my Bible study time, and I’ve added a few more since losing Hannah. Let me just say, God is definitely closer to us in our pain. The Holy Spirit has been a comfort to me in moments when I felt I couldn’t take another step.


But as I was reading those devotionals, three of them said, “Do not be afraid. Be courageous. I will be with you.” Coincidence? The others all said things like the Holy Spirit will go before you and prepare the way. Every word I read was leading me to believe God was telling me to go for it.


Then I opened my Bible and looked down to see what chapter it had opened to. It wasn’t highlighted, but it jumped right off the page at me:
Romans 10:14 — “How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?”


I am an evangelist. My greatest desire is to lead people to Jesus. It is hardwired into my very being. This is who God created me to be. This was the assignment I was given. There’s not a day that passes that I don’t feel the desire to tell someone about the hope we have in Jesus. I was definitely going to jail!


It was another first. I realized I had not even driven anywhere since Hannah died. I knew I hadn’t forgotten how to drive, but I was still nervous. This was the first time I had been to the jail since her death, the first time I had spoken in a ministry setting since then. And I was scared to death.


As I drove to the jail, I began to pray in the Spirit, and when I pulled into the parking lot, I had perfect peace. The nervousness was gone, but now there was excitement in its place. What would God do tonight?


While I was hooking up the laptop to the projector, the ladies came in. New ladies. A few had been there before, but many were new. They began to ask me how I was doing, and I tried to say, “I’m okay,” but the tears came, and I began to cry. Oh no! Maybe it was too soon!


They came up and hugged me, and I was able to tell them what happened. We started the worship service. I had chosen upbeat songs—new songs that I had never heard Hannah sing. Then I grabbed my notes to begin my message. But soon, I laid the notes back on the table and just spoke.


I felt like I was all over the place, and parts were really sad, but I knew the Holy Spirit was speaking through me. I asked them, “What happens to your faith when the unthinkable happens?” Soon after, I closed and gave the altar call. I’m thrilled to say that five out of eight ladies raised their hands to give their lives to Jesus!


Then I opened the altars for prayer. Another first—I hadn’t laid hands on anyone and prayed for them since before Hannah’s death. Would I even be able to mutter a word to pray for them? But I did, and four of those five ladies were baptized in the Holy Spirit with the evidence of speaking in tongues, and three fell to the floor under the mighty power of the Holy Spirit.


What a night! I left on cloud nine. The night was therapeutic for me. I don’t know who ministered more. Those ladies loved on me and cried with me, hugged me and comforted me. And most importantly, the Holy Spirit empowered me to do what I could not do on my own.


I told the ladies I might not be there every week. Grief is so unpredictable. Some days are better than others. Some days it’s all I can do to get out of bed. It will be a slow return to fulltime weekly prison ministry. But now I know Satan is definitely a liar, the father of all lies. God has promised to never leave us or forsake us, and He never will.


I was talking to Kay Warren. She and her husband, Pastor Rick Warren, lost their son Matthew to suicide on April 5th of 2013. As we were talking about ministry from this point on, she told me to write this down: “When you can, you will, and when you can’t, you won’t.” I’m seeing how true that is, and God is not upset with us in either case.