Sacred Moments

The most profound gifts don’t come tied with ribbon. They arrive like a beam of light piercing through a crack in the day—unexpected, speechless, and undeniable. A single breath of love. A glance that anchors you. A moment that sears itself into memory, leaving a lasting warmth even after everything else fades away.

Eight years ago this month, I was handed one of those gifts. My mother—silent for three weeks, her earthly journey thinning to a thread—rested in her bedroom rinsed with gentle April light. Beyond the window, a cardinal kept singing, as if heaven had slipped a small red soloist into the branches. Her nurse quietly stepped out, and the air changed; the world became a sanctuary with only two hearts inside it. My mother turned her face toward mine, found my eyes, and with a strength I thought had already departed, she spoke—simple as breath, weighty as eternity: “I love you.” In that instant, time slowed, and everything holy gathered near. Tears came fast, and my heart split open—full of grief, and somehow fuller still of profound gratitude. I knew I was hearing those precious words for the last time—the same words she had poured over me all my life. That sacred moment became a treasure I will carry always: a final, soul-deep assurance of love before she went home to Jesus.

And yet I know not every story sounds like mine. For some, the word “mother” carries a shadow—an absence that echoes, a longing that doesn’t know where to rest, a tender place the years still brush against. If that is your story, precious sister, you are not overlooked. God is not far off, watching from a distance; His heart draws close, and He meets you gently in the ache. Often, in His kindness, He sends other women—spiritual mothers, sisters, aunts, daughter, friends—steady voices and soft hands that stitch comfort into the places that feel torn. Through them, He lays love over what is missing, and He tends what has been wounded.

My mother found profound peace in the scriptures. In those final weeks, I read to her for hours, letting the inspired word flow like a river through the quiet between our breaths. As her body weakened, God’s promises stayed strong—living and steady—feeding her soul when she could no longer take food or water. Psalm 91 became our shelter on the hardest nights, its lines a lamp set low beside the bed, its truth a covering when fear tried to press in. When so much is stripped away, love and truth still reach us—still gather us in—stilled our souls.

Soon after, my mother slipped quietly into eternity—as softly as a candle’s last flicker giving way to dawn. I like to imagine Jesus greeting her with a whisper she had spoken so faithfully here: “I love you.” Even now, when fear or grief rises like a tide, Psalm 91 steadies me. Its promises come back like waves of mercy—again and again—pouring peace and strength into the places that still feel tender.

I offer you the gentle refuge of Psalm 91. If you are carrying sorrow, fear, or bone-deep weariness, let these words be a quiet room for your heart—a place to exhale. You are deeply loved—seen and chosen—no matter what storm is gathering. As you read, imagine your Heavenly Father drawing you close, settling His peace over you like a warm covering, and whispering, “Beloved daughter, I am here. I am with you—always. Nothing shall harm you. I've got this. I've got you.”

Let His promises sink slowly into the places that ache. You are not alone. God delights in comforting you—holding you through long nights and uncertain mornings, staying near when the world feels loud or fragile. Allow Psalm 91 be personal: slip your name into the verses. For example: “[Your Name] dwells in the shelter of the Most High." As you speak these words, may you sense His nearness—faithful love closing around you.

I sit down in the High God’s presence,
    

and spend the night in Shaddai’s shadow,


I say: “God, you’re my refuge.
    

I trust in you and I’m safe!”


That’s right—You rescue me from hidden traps,
    

shield me from deadly hazards.


Your huge outstretched arms protect me—
    

under them I’m perfectly safe;
    

Your arms fend off all harm.


I fear nothing—not wild wolves in the night,
    

not flying arrows in the day,


Not disease that prowls through the darkness,
    

not disaster that erupts at high noon.


Even though others succumb all around,
    

drop like flies right and left,
    

no harm will even graze me.

I stand untouched, watch it all from a distance,
    

watch the wicked turn into corpses.


Yes, because You are my refuge,
   

 the High God is my very own home,


Evil can’t get close to me,
    

harm can’t get through the door.


You ordered Your  angels
   

 to guard me wherever I go.


If I stumble, they’ll catch me;
    

their job is to keep me from falling.


I walk unharmed among lions and snakes,
    

and kick young lions and serpents from the path.

God you tell me “If I hold on to You for dear life,”   

You will get me out of any trouble.


You will give me the best of care
    

when I get to know and trust You.


You tell me to call You and You will {always} answer.

You will be at my side in bad times;

You will rescue me, then throw me a party.


You will give me a long life, and You will give me
  

a long drink of salvation!”

~ Psalm 91 {Message Translation, Personalized, Emphasized}