Today, I’m sharing a personal story illustrating God’s working power during my grief journey.
- The Most Heart-Wrenching Experience I Ever Had in a Church
I still vividly remember the day I returned alone to the church my husband Robert and I once attended together. We always sat in the same row, in the same seats next to the aisle, surrounded by familiar faces. It’s strange how people instinctively claim the same spots as if those seats offer a quiet sense of comfort that goes unspoken.
It was my first time returning to the same church alone after Robert’s passing, and it would also be my last. It was one of the most sorrowful experiences I could remember in a church.
I returned not because my heart guided me there but because I wanted to support the pastor who kindly agreed to host Robert’s upcoming memorial service at church. It was a way to honor Robert’s memory and the pastor’s kindness, even when every ounce of my being felt tethered by grief.
As I walked into the church, an elder immediately spotted me. With a wide, casual smile, he greeted me with a cheerful “Welcome back,” as though everything had always been the same. There was not the slightest sign that he recognized I was in pain. It felt as though my sorrow was invisible or didn’t even exist.
Did he not understand that I was drowning in my deepest grief?
Robert and I had attended the same home group with this elder and his wife for a year, and I truly felt we had crossed the line from acquaintance to friendship. When he faced a financial need for his children, Robert stepped in with generosity and care. Yet after Robert passed, I heard nothing from him, his wife, or anyone else in the home group—not a single text, call, or email. Nothing. Now, seeing me for the first time since Robert’s passing, his insensitive greeting didn’t just bring tears to my eyes—it stirred something much deeper, a simmering anger. How could he be so oblivious to the pain I was living through?
I sat in the same seat quietly, and no matter how hard I tried, the tears wouldn’t stop. They just kept falling, as if my grief had found its voice in that moment, unwilling to be silenced.
Several well-meaning sisters came over to pray for me, but their kindness did not comfort me; it only made the tears flow harder. Though deeply appreciated, their prayer seemed to stir the rawness of my grief even more, and I couldn’t hold it in.
I could no longer sing the beautiful worship songs that once filled me with awe and wonder. Instead, I stood there, drenched in tears. In that moment, all I wanted was to escape—to run from the harshness of reality.
- Amid Our Deepest Sorrow, God Works Behind the Scenes
After the worship, during a brief break, I decided to slip away before the sermon. Just as I was about to leave, a church sister approached me.
Though we had never spoken in person—she always sat at the far end with her ailing husband, and our paths never indeed crossed—God, in His perfect timing, sent Joanna to me that day.
She took my hand and said, “I’m Joanna. I also lost my husband. We need to help each other.” Then she handed me a slip of paper with her name and number on it.
“Call me now,” she said, her voice thick with conviction. Though her request caught me off guard, I dialed her number immediately, so we knew she received my call. My anger toward that elder, whose insensitivity I saw as a reflection of the church itself, made me wonder if I hadn’t called Joan then, I might never have done so.
I never returned to that church. Yet, in His infinite wisdom, God sent me a sister in Christ with no fancy title, no position in the church, yet a faithful believer and warrior of God.
Without realizing its significance, a beautiful bond rooted in God’s love was born.
- Joanna’s Calling: To Help Me Fulfill My Calling on Earth
Joanna’s husband had battled illness for years before he went to be with the Lord, while I lost mine suddenly and without warning on June 3, 2024. Our husbands passed just one month apart. Regardless, neither of us was prepared. We can never truly be ready for the loss of our love.
We both lay awake at night, unable to sleep, crying through the days and nights, suffering in pain and sorrow too deep for words. Joanna called me constantly, whether it was early morning or late evening. Together, we wept, talked, shared our grief, and prayed together.
As my faith trembled when I questioned God about my loss, Joanna prayed with me like a fierce warrior. Her faith in Jesus was unshakable, transcending my deep understanding and surpassing my knowledge of Scripture.
Soon after my husband’s passing, I received a divine calling—unexpectedly confirmed during a ‘pain-escaping’ trip—to write an inspirational memoir. Deep within my spirit, I knew this book was not about me or my husband—it was meant to glorify God. It is His book, written for His name and His glory alone. On July 17, 2024, I picked up my pen and began my newfound mission.
After I came back from the trip, Joanna called me early on the morning of August 26, 2014. I shared that I had received confirmation from God and was writing a book. Joanna felt an immediate urge to pray. “Let me pray for you right now,” she said.
As she began to pray, she saw a vision, “Oh my God, the anointing is here. I see you sitting at a desk, head bowed in writing, with a glowing golden cap of glory covering your head. The Holy Spirit is anointing you.”
She continued, “The anointing was indescribably beautiful. This book is about God, not about you. God will guide your mind as you write”, she told me.
She was prophesying! Her vision gave me such powerful confirmation—what she spoke was precisely what I had already written in the introduction of my book.
Joanna often says she’s still living because God has a mission for her, though she doesn’t yet know what it is. But for me, her mission is as clear as the breath I draw. She is here to pray and support me in fulfilling God’s calling to write my memoir and many other messages that will reach and touch souls for the glory of God.
………to be continued