I have always dreaded the phone call of death.

The thought of losing someone close to my heart has only been a glimmer of dust…. A far away reality that I could not quite come to grips with, simply because I have never experienced death like this before.

The kind of death that takes away your breath, your sense of peace, your beating heart.

And the cry of my mother on the other side of my phone said it all…

My Grandpa was very close to death.


I am convinced that the world stopped spinning in those moments after I hit the blurring red button on my phone.

I cannot fully explain the feeling of my heart besides shattered.

And when I walked into those hospital doors and saw my Grandma’s tear stained face, my heart truly did shatter.

He was going to be gone very soon, and there was nothing I could do or say that would fix it.

I am not sure how I slept that night in the hospital.

Sleeping a hallway away from my Grandpa, knowing that his heart was beating, but his body would soon be cold, is one of the most crushing feelings.

Waking up the next morning knowing that my nightmare was still a reality made it hard to breath, hard to blink. My eyes were swollen shut and I considered not opening them for a couple of more hours and trying to sleep this horror away.

But in the midst of death, Hope was calling my name. The sight of my Bible lying on the table in front of me encouraged me to open the voice of Hope knocking on my heart.

My Bible was the only thing I had brought into the hospital, because I knew I would need it. But where do you begin on the hardest day of your life? Where do you even know where to start?

“Read in the book of Psalms,” the precious whisper of Hope rang in my ears.

The book of Psalms is the only book I was able to get through that morning, that night, the next day. Because of the real, raw cries it illustrated.

Psalm 23:4

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadows of death,

I will fear no evil

For You are with me.

Your rod and Your staff,

They comfort me.”

This verse rang through my soul as I sat at the bedside of my unconscious Grandpa. It was the only verse that allowed me to hold onto the Truth that is so graciously given to me: the fact that Jesus saves.

Although the screen in my Grandpa’s hospital room eventually screamed “0”, my heart was no longer sad, full of fear, or hopeless. It was full of peace. Peace that only comes from the heavenly realms of my Father, my Father that was in the room with us… my Father that took my Grandpa’s spirit to live in Hope forever:


Death has been swallowed up by Victory.

The Victory that my Grandpa didn’t deserve, that I don’t deserve, that you don’t deserve.

Death says Hell,

Hope says Heaven.

And because of this sweet Victory on the cross, I will rejoice. I will rejoice because my Grandpa’s death isn’t just left in his grave, it is living, breathing, HOPE.

Hope that will linger in the hearts of my Grandpa’s loved ones forever.


If you knew my Grandpa, you are the lucky one.

He was nothing but:









But now, he is that and more…. by the feet of Jesus.



Psalm 147:1-3

“Praise the Lord.

How GOOD it is to sing praises to our God,

How pleasant and fitting to praise Him!

The Lord builds up Jerusalem; he gathers the exiles of Israel.

He heals the brokenhearted

And binds up their wounds.”

Jesus is our Victory.