Losing a child changes everything about how you see the world. The things I used to think were important? They don't seem to matter as much anymore. And the little things I barely noticed before now feel huge. But the most challenging shift is realizing that what I thought I understood — about life, faith, and God — no longer makes sense.
Lately, I've been returning to Bible stories I thought I knew. I used to breeze through them like familiar chapters in a favorite book. But now I'm slowing down, paying more attention to the people in the stories and what they were going through. That's when Hagar's story hit me differently.
I'm embarrassed to admit that I used to see Hagar as a side character in Abraham's story — a footnote in a bigger narrative. But this wasn't a side story for Hagar and her son, Ishmael. It was their story. Their survival. Their future. It mattered just as much as Abraham's journey.
Perspective really is everything. We all see the world through the lens of our experiences. It's like eyewitness accounts — no two people will remember an event exactly the same way because what stands out to one person might be missed by another. Now I realize that before losing my daughter, I focused on the "good" that could come from someone's death — stories of lives changed or communities coming together. But now?
Hagar called God Jehovah-Roi — "The God Who Sees." As an enslaved person, she was often overlooked, but God saw her. I cling to that truth. I may not understand what God is doing, but I know He sees me. And there's so much power in being seen. When someone truly sees your grief, it gives you the strength to keep going. And that's what keeps me going, too.
