The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

How do you know what to do when you come to a crossroads in your life? How do you know if you should hold on or let go?

I think only you will know when you should hold on or let go. I am reminded of this verse. “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.'” (Isaiah 30:21) I listen to the little voice inside me all the time. It is that voice which is so quiet you have to be still to hear it. However, once you hear it, that voice will give you clarity and direction. Unfortunately, only you can hear it and then you have a choice. You can follow it or turn and go down a different road.

I have never really felt like I have been at a crossroads in my life. But four-and-a-half years ago my life was turned upside down. My son Tyler was headed out with friends for about 30 minutes to drop some buddies off at their car and come back home. No big deal . . . just 30 minutes. Well, that, 30 minutes ended up being the longest minutes of my life. The driver lost control of his car on our country road while bringing Tyler home. He was just a little over a mile away from our house when it happened. So many emotions, questions, and so many things we don’t know. I have not been the same since I lost Tyler in that car accident. I have lost my inner joy and some days it’s hard to keep moving forward, but I know I have to. Those are the days I feel like I have come to a crossroads in my life that I have to choose to let go and spiral out of control—or hold on.

The days I feel like I have been stretched too thin and I want to just give up, I hold on.

There are days my life feels like it is crumbling apart all around me. I hold on.

I have days I miss my precious blue-eyed boy so much my heart aches. I hold on.

I am reminded of his handsome smile that brings joy to my heart. I hold on.

I still wake up in the middle of the night sweating from anxiety, but I know I just need to breathe and find a cold place. I hold on.

I get tired of fighting to figure out why life happens the way it does. I hold on.

I hold on to the precious memories of Tyler and the 15 years we had with him.

I hold on to his contagious laugh that helps on the days that are hard.

On the days the tears flood my eyes, I hold on.

I hold on to the hope that I will get through this devastating time of my life.

I hold on to my gut feeling that I am brave, strong and a fighter.

Whatever you do, don’t give up even when you feel like there is no way out, around, over or through. Because there is! There is always someone there to listen, cry with, laugh with or give you hope.

I hold on to the past, but I also hold on to the future. Knowing how precious life is and that we are only given one, I value each day as if it’s my last.

I choose to hold on.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Missy Hillmer

Missy Hillmer is a writer, photographer, wife, mother, creative lady whose mind is constantly on the go. She loves coffee, dark chocolate especially with nuts, music soothes her soul and being outside in the sun recharges her body. She has an angel in Heaven. Her faith is what gets her through each day. Since her son Tyler’s accident she is passionate about telling her story with the hope that it will help or inspire at least one person who has lost a child.

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

In: Faith, Living
Woman looking over canyon

Insecurity is something we all carry in one form or another. For me, it has probably always looked confident and outgoing from the outside. But internally, it can feel heavy, complicated, and exhausting at times. And when someone comes along whose behavior reinforces those insecurities, it amplifies what was already there. There was someone I had hoped to genuinely connect with, but it was clear from the start that the feeling wasn’t mutual. From the beginning, their wall was up. No matter how kind I tried to be or how carefully I showed up, it never came down. Their distance...

Keep Reading

Lord, Give Me Faith Like Hannah

In: Faith
Woman walking in field with hand in wheat

Hannah knew what it was like to feel forgotten. She often clutched her empty womb and thought Surely the Lord has forgotten me.  She knew the bitter sting of feeling isolated and alone. She knew the anguish of praying day after day after day and seeing no fruit, not even a bud, from her faithfulness. Hannah knew what it was like to feel like the weight of the world was on her, and her hope may have dwindled. Even those around her did not offer encouragement. Quite the opposite—they did their best to sow seeds of discouragement. Yet Hannah pressed...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

In: Faith, Motherhood
Family smiling in posed photo

My pastor frequently speaks of “kid pain” and acknowledges there’s nothing like it. I can testify to that. After nine months of uncertainty and unexplained issues following the birth of our now 4-year-old daughter, Harlow, we finally received her diagnosis of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Complex Deficiency (PDCD), a life-limiting mitochondrial disease with no cure and no FDA-approved treatments. It was heartbreaking. In moments like these, a parent can fall into complete desperation. You go through a range of emotions almost too fast to name: fear for your child’s life; anxiousness about how much time you’ll get with them; overwhelming grief. And...

Keep Reading

What If I Don’t Hear God’s Voice?

In: Faith
Woman with folded hands looking up

There have been many times over the years when I’ve heard others share stories of how the Lord spoke to them or gave them a sign. Seashells scattered along a sandy beach, numbered to represent how many children they would have. A quiet walk in the park, followed by a clear sense that another little one was coming. What a blessing, I think, when I hear and read their stories. I often wonder how much more faith they must have than I do—to know with such certainty that what they heard was truly God speaking. I listen, I smile, and...

Keep Reading

God Holds You As You Hold Everyone Else

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding toddler daughter on her hip, standing outside

She stands in the kitchen, hands trembling over the sink, tears she cannot let fall pressing behind her eyes. The world outside her window is quiet, but inside her heart there is a storm she cannot name. She is hurting, not because she does not love her life, but because somewhere along the way she forgot how to breathe inside it. Yet even in her pain, little voices call her name. Tiny hands tug at her shirt. Lunchboxes need packing, homework needs checking, hearts need holding. And so she wipes her face, forces a smile, and whispers a quiet prayer:...

Keep Reading

Yes, I Know Fear—but I Also Know Faith

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding child's hands in hospital bed

The night my daughter woke up screaming at 3 a.m., I knew something was wrong. Her cry wasn’t the half-asleep whimper of a bad dream. Instead, it was pain—raw and sharp. Within an hour, we were rushing to the emergency room, the world outside our headlights still wrapped in darkness. Tests, scans, questions, and then the words no parent ever wants to hear: “We’re transferring her to another hospital by ambulance. She needs surgery right away.” They said “torsion.” They said “tumor.” They said “appendix.” I nodded, because that’s what mothers do. We stay steady, even when our hearts are...

Keep Reading

10 Years after My Mother’s Death, Her Faith Still Guides Me

In: Faith, Grief
Woman praying

Growing up, I was a reluctant Catholic. My mother would drag us to church, and I’d go through the motions—fingers moving across rosary beads without really feeling the prayers. But she never stopped. Sunday Mass, daily prayers, devotions to the Blessed Mother. She was relentless in her faith, not because she was trying to force it on us, but because she genuinely believed we would need it someday. She was right. My mother died of stage 4 colon cancer in 2012. My brother and I watched her suffer, saw how her body betrayed her, watched as treatments failed. And here’s...

Keep Reading

Finding God in the Middle of Disbelief: A Mom’s Journey through Faith and Fear

In: Faith
Mother holding hand of young child, silhouette

“But the Lord is with me like a mighty warrior; so my persecutors will stumble and not triumph over me.” – Jeremiah 20:11 God, thank You for making sure my son is okay. Thank You for this just being paranoia. I believe in You. I believe in Your control. I believe. I believe. I believe. These words streamed through my head as my husband drove us downtown to visit our first specialist with our 4-month-old son, Maximus. Our pediatrician had written me off, but I could not ignore the feeling in my bones that something was wrong. Tiny, hard bumps...

Keep Reading

In Praise of Indebtedness: How Threads of Reciprocity Weave Us Together

In: Faith, Living
Woman holding casserole

It all started with tomatoes. After we moved, a neighbor invited us to pick from the abundance in her and her husband’s gardens. In return for a pile of tomatoes gathered from their raised beds, I left a plastic bag of homegrown pumpkins on their porch. Later that summer, our neighbor stopped by with a recycled container full of still more fruits. By the fall, we were sharing chili and cookies over dinner at our place. Threads of indebtedness were weaving us together. For most of my life, the idea of indebtedness has tasted rather repulsive on my tongue. The...

Keep Reading