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The Death of a Child is a True Test of Faith

Our son Lukas died as a result of a drunk driving crash; he was a passenger in the vehicle.

Losing our son has been a true test of our faith.  I know in my soul, that as bad as the injuries were, God could have healed Lukas 100%.  We hear of the miracles often in the Bible as messages of hope.

The eighth and ninth chapters of Matthew are full of miracles of healing:

  • Healing at Capernaum
  • Driving out demons
  • A girl restored
  • A woman healed
  • Healing of the blind

In John chapter eleven, Jesus even raised his friend Lazarus from the dead.

Since the day we lost our son, it has been especially hard to hear these stories, because that’s not our story.

For the first few days that Lukas was in the hospital, all I could pray was “save my son.” After a few more days, I was able to pray that if he was healed, he would also be made whole.  I knew Lukas would not be happy if he was incapacitated and as much as I wanted him here, I didn’t want the rest of his life to be a daily struggle for him.

When one of my friends came to see us in the hospital, she shared with me that she heard God tell her that Lukas is all right.  When she told me this, I couldn’t really respond, because I heard what the medical staff was telling me, and it wasn’t promising. At the time, she thought that Lukas would have an earthly healing. Now we know that he IS all right, but not the way we had hoped and prayed.

My favorite verse is Romans 8:28 “We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God; those who are called according to His purpose.” I struggled with this for a while. It is hard to find the good in the death of a young man with his whole life ahead of him.  He had so many people who cared about him. He had a solid plan for his future.

I know that since his accident happened on Easter weekend (probably the highest attended church service), it was likely that thousands of people were praying for his healing.  But we know that God’s plan is bigger than ours is.

Maybe “all things working together for good” doesn’t meet our definition of good but God’s.

Personally, I’d rather have my son here with me; I’d rather see his children come into the world; I’d rather that my other children have their little brother to grow old with, but that is not going to happen.

As I read Romans 8:28 and wonder, “Good? Where is the good in this?”  I continue to read on and see Romans 8:35 that says, “Who can separate us from the love of Christ? Can affliction or anguish or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?” and I see that God is here to comfort me and the rest of my family.

My anguish cannot separate me from the love of Christ.  It’s hard to remember that God loves our children more than we do. That’s hard to even comprehend, but He does.

We know that God did not let this happen to hurt anybody.  And when we lean on Him for comfort, He is there, even just to hold us while we fall apart.  I do not believe it is lack of faith to completely fall apart, or to question, or even to shake our fist at God asking WHY???  as long as we work through those emotions. This is part of grief.  This is what the Psalms are.

With His help, I do not stay in that pit of pain.

Corrie Ten Boom said, “When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.” Our world is still pretty dark at times, but trusting Him, our Engineer, helps us to bring back the light.

Yes, I’ve asked why. I’ve questioned how this could possibly be okay.  How can our son, who was liked by everyone, who had a future planned, not be here anymore?

The thing that keeps me going is the promise of seeing my child again. Every day here on earth brings me a day closer to the reunion promised to us because of Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

 

Linda Christofferson lost her son, Lukas, as a passenger in a drunk/drugged driving crash. She never lost faith in God and His plan but has struggled with His allowing this to happen. 
Linda and her husband, Robert, vowed from day one that this loss would not be in vain.  They have spoken to several hundred high school students about the impact of impaired driving and take the time to speak with young people individually when the opportunity presents itself.

Would you like to write for GPS Hope? Contact us at office@gpshope.org.

 

Expressions of Hope is written (or provided) by author, speaker and singer Laura Diehl. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). Dave and Laura travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, including being invited to hold one-day GPS Hope & Healing conferences.

If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event or want more information on hosting a GPS Hope & Healing conference, click here.

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Five Lessons About Grief from Climbing a Mountain

A few weeks ago, the Hope Mobile (our 38-foot motor home that we live in full-time) was parked at a campground in a beautiful valley, surrounded by small mountains. As I would go walking in the mornings, a few of those times I found myself following a trail that took me up one of those mountains.

One morning I realized how my climb up the mountain paralleled several things in my grief journey after my oldest daughter, Becca, died. Here are five of those things.

  1. It’s a lot of work climbing up those mountains. And when you get to the top, it’s wonderful, but you don’t get to stay there. You must work your way back down.

The earlier we are in our grief journey, the harder the climb is and the less time we stay at the top. We find ourselves almost immediately tumbling back down the mountainside, back into the valley. With anything in life, mountaintop experiences are great, even exhilarating. But we don’t get to stay there. It is in the valley where most maturing happens and life-lessons are learned, including how much we need to depend on God to be our guide though this life.

  1. What kept me moving forward and continuing to go up the mountain was not being able to see the full path in front of me. I freely admit I would not have kept going if I could have seen the full path all the way to the top. I kept thinking, “I’ll just go up to that point where it curves, and I’ll probably be at the top.” And when I would turn that corner, there would be more path and I would think again, “Okay, let me get to that point up there,” and I would get there and find more path.

It’s a good thing we can’t see the full path of our lives ahead of time. We can only take a little bit at a time. But that doesn’t mean every corner we turn is bad, it is just unknown what lies ahead. If we keep going, based on what we can see, and not worry about what we can’t see, we will eventually make it all the way.

  1. The last mountain I climbed was taking longer than I thought it would. I was getting quite tired and I started hoping I would meet up with the path I was on the day before, which would be a quicker way back down. As I kept going forward, looking for that other path, I eventually found myself at the very top of this new mountain. As I looked to my right, I was shocked to see that waaaayyyy down below me was the top of the mountain where I had stood the day before. I had no idea that I was climbing that much higher!

As we keep walking on this journey, one step at a time (sometimes one breath at a time) we will one day suddenly discover that we are doing better than we ever thought we could or would. At the time though, it feels like we can’t go on and things will never get better.

  1. Quite often I was paying so much attention to the path and my steps, that I was missing the view, so sometimes I would stop and look out, to enjoy what was around me.

Quite often we are so consumed by our grief (and rightly so, especially those first few weeks and months) that we don’t see what is going on around us. There are good things all around us; things we can still be thankful for. Sometimes we need to force ourselves to put our grief on pause to look for those things.

  1. I also used those times of looking around at the view to get rested before continuing.

Grief is a lot of hard work! It can take everything we have just to be in survival mode. It’s okay to rest when you are weary, when triggers hit hard, and you don’t have any energy to do even the simplest things like take a shower or put a frozen pizza in the oven.

And if you are someone who has faced the death of your child, it is one of the worst traumas a person can go through on this earth. (You will find that experts support this, saying we are going through what is called “traumatic grief” and that five years and less is considered fresh grief for a parent who has lost a child.) You have been through a trauma and can possibly even be dealing with PTSD.

Rest is not only okay, it is what you need, in every area, physically, emotionally, and yes, even spiritually in some ways.

There is one last comparison I would like to share with you, which might possibly be the most important one.

I can show you lots of pictures I took while climbing these mountains. I can tell you some of the things God was speaking to me, but it was my personal climb. Even if you had been with me, we would have seen things through our own eyes and our own thoughts.

In other words, we can be on the same path together, and yet we will be on our own personal separate climb. I would only be able to do so much to pull you into what I was seeing and how I was feeling. I could point something out to you, but you would be seeing it through your own lens of life. You would be having your own experience. It would be with me, and yet separate from me. Some of our climb would be the same experience, and some of it would be very different.

We are each on our own grief journey. Even if you are like me and have lost a child from this earth, there is no way I know how you feel. I know how I felt after my daughter died. I know the suffocating darkness I experienced. I know how I would forget to breath and have to consciously tell myself to take a breath. I know how I wanted to stop hurting so bad and how the darkness lasted for so much longer than I thought it should.

I know how I didn’t want to live, which didn’t make sense because I knew in my head I had so much still to live for. (I had a loving husband, four other children and two grandchildren at the time – one of those being the 9-year-old daughter of my daughter who had died).  None of that mattered. My heart wanted to be with my daughter who was now gone from this earth, and I knew I couldn’t stay here if the rest of my life was going to be this painful. (I wasn’t suicidal, I just didn’t want to live any more and begged God to take me out of here!)

You see, we each have many of the same grief experiences, but it is all though our own personal journey of our personal relationship with the one who died. I know how I felt, but that doesn’t mean I know how you feel, even if you lost a daughter the same way I lost my daughter, through heart damage caused by chemotherapy.

I want to encourage you to keep climbing. If you started and found yourself back down in the valley, go again after you are rested. And even though we each have our own experience, please know that if you are a bereaved parent, we are here at GPS Hope (Grieving Parents Sharing Hope), walking with you every step of the way.

 

For those who would like some helpful ideas on how to take care of yourself on this grief journey, we would like to send you a free resource. To have Thirty Ways to Bring Yourself Comfort and Take Care of Yourself delivered directly to your inbox, just submit your name and email address below.

Note: This will connect you with GPS Hope, including joining over 1,000 bereaved parents who receive a Weekly Word of Hope email on our journey together. If you want to stop receiving it at any time, just hit the unsubscribe button at the bottom of any email.

 

Expressions of Hope is written by author, speaker and singer Laura Diehl. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). Dave and Laura travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, including being invited to hold one-day GPS Hope & Healing conferences.

 

If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event or want more information on hosting a GPS Hope & Healing conference, click here.

 

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Learning to Rest in God

“Don’t do, just be.”

This was the message I kept hearing from many different places for the first two years after Becca’s leaving this earth. I believe it is a message we all need at some point when working our way through the darkness and back into the light after the death of our child.

We all need that place where we can go to get away and rest. However, the rest we truly need to come into is not a time and a place. It is a position; a way of life. But often we must begin with the time and place in order to learn to live in that position.

That means we have to set time aside specifically to be alone in God’s presence, especially if we have a hard time believing He truly loves us after not stepping in to save our child from earthly death. We need to “just be” in the stillness of His presence, where He can speak peace to us and fill us with His extravagant love.

During that time those first couple of years, God gave me many reminders to rest in Him and His ways. It was a hard thing to do, because I could not see any light in my darkness or understand why God was allowing so much intense pain.

He would share His reminders to just “be” and rest in Him in so many different ways. He would remind me to take a breath and breathe in His love and peace. He never sugarcoated anything, but would acknowledge how difficult and steep my climb was, telling me to cling tightly to His hand, reminding me to look at Him whenever my circumstances overwhelmed me.

He knew how weak and helpless I was, and He never tired of meeting me in my place of need. Looking back, I see now how each time He would free me from a few more of my shackles, even though most of the time I couldn’t feel it.

Not only would He “hold” me, but He would encourage me to relax in the awareness of His presence. Some of my most precious times with the Lord were in my greatest times of weakness, just letting everything go and melting into His peace, love, and compassion. And so much peace and deep revelation came out of those times of intimacy in those first few years.

For example, I discovered so many scriptures that I had misunderstood, such as Matthew 11:28-29 where Jesus says,

Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. (NIV)

There are lots of theological teachings on what Jesus meant by this, including what it meant for Jesus, as a rabbi, to say this. But at that moment of my life, the revelation of those verses didn’t mean that Jesus would make my life easy, but that being yoked together with Him is being yoked to that place of rest for my soul; that He would help me carry this heavy burden which is impossible for me to carry on my own.

I rediscovered Psalm 23 in The Complete Jewish Bible translation, that promises to restore my inner person, and that if I pass through death-dark ravines, He is with me; and that His grace and goodness are still pursuing me every day of my life.

This is not to say at some point I got it all figured out and now continually live from a place of rest. I wish God would just speak a command and make it all better, taking away the pain and replacing it with constant peace and rest, but it hasn’t happened that way.

Learning how to live in that place of resting in God has been a process. The pain can still be pretty intense at times, making me feel like I am going backwards, losing that peace and the place of rest.

For instance, a while back, Becca’s husband dropped off four plastic tubs on our front porch. They were full of things he no longer wanted taking up space in his garage. Two bins held Becca’s collection of Snow Buddies she put out every Christmas. One had all of her cassette tapes and CDs, and one contained lots of odds and ends, such as medical items used during her last year and a half of life, and some beautiful photo scrapbooks Becca spent hours on of their family.

But the thing that left me in a crying mess for the next few days was when I discovered her wedding dress smashed in the bottom of one of those bins. My heart still hurts, thinking about it. It felt so cruel, so careless, like she was no longer wanted or to be remembered. My daughter’s life has been reduced to four plastic bins, I thought. But instead of allowing myself to go in that direction, I told myself the truth. Her life was much bigger than these four bins. However… it was another door of finality I had to painfully work through, and once again make a conscious decision to rest in who God is within the circumstance.

Learning to rest in God is a must if you want to get out of your place of darkness.

And that means spending time alone with Him. You don’t even have to talk to Him;  just “be” with Him. Don’t feel guilty about being angry with Him, or about taking lots of time to be closed in with the One who loves you like crazy and wants to get you out of the pit and onto the path of living again.

Spend intimate time with Him. Lots of it. Let Him show you the way out by showing you the fullness of Himself. If you stick with it, I guarantee you will learn to come into that place of rest that we all so desperately need after the earthly departure of our child.

Would we rather have our child back? Absolutely. But that isn’t going to happen here on this earth. So, we might as well allow God to love on us and be at work in us, so that their death isn’t wasted in our lives.

 

This blog was taken from the chapter The Bedroom of Rest, from the award-winning book When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life with Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child.

This book, When Tragedy Strikes, now has a course for those who feel the need to go deeper, wanting to implement more specific and practical ways on how to rebuild their lives after the death of their child.

The course has three options, based on how much or how little guidance one feels they want or need.

  • The first option is a free mini course.
  • The second option is a full course with eight modules.
  • The third option is for those who see the value in having one-on-one guidance and interaction with author and instructor, Laura Diehl, in their grief journey as they go through the full course. NOTE: This is for a small limited group and only available 2-3 times a year.

The When Tragedy Strikes Hope & Healing Course was created to walk with and help navigate a parent who has lost a child to a place of light, hope and a life of purpose once again. It is easier walking with others who have been on this path than stumbling about on our own.

While the process of grief cannot be hurried, we can learn how to take steps, no matter how small, making sure we keep moving forward instead of remaining stuck in the pain and darkness of our horrific loss.

To find out more about the When Tragedy Strikes Hope & Healing Course, click here.

 

Expressions of Hope is written by author, speaker and singer Laura Diehl. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). Dave and Laura travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, including being invited to hold one-day GPS Hope & Healing conferences.

 

If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event or want more information on hosting a GPS Hope & Healing conference, click here.

 

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I’ll Love You Forever

February is a month where “love is in the air” with Valentine’s Day. Personally, I always used this day to love on my kids, since I didn’t feel like Dave and I needed a day set aside to show our love for each other.

One reason the pain is so deep after the death of our child is because our love for him or her doesn’t go away when they leave us. The love we have for our children lasts forever, which is expressed in the writing below.

Forever

My child,
Flesh of my flesh,
Soul of my soul,
Part of my very being;
I had an instant deep and fierce love when I first saw you.
My heart was yours, and I knew I would give my very life to protect you.

And yet, here I sit, with the suffocating pain and darkness of knowing I was unable to protect you from death.

So now I find that just as deep and intense as my love for you, is the deep and intense pain of my grief in living without you. And yet I know that somehow, I must.

How? How God? How do I go on with a piece of my very being gone from this earth?

And as I ask and seek for this help, God in His tender love, compassion and faithfulness reminds me that I don’t have to live without you.

You are forever in my heart and my thoughts, and forever a part of my very being; that our separation is only temporary. You have just moved on to our eternal home before me and have unpacked and settled in, waiting for me and the rest of us to join you.

This isn’t a final good-by. It is an “I’ll see you later.” When I have the thoughts that I would give anything to see you again, to hug you or hear you laugh, I realize that I will! Maybe not as soon as I want to, but it will happen!

And so, I will wait. I will wait with hope, expectancy and even excitement to see you again. Every day I am here on this earth means I am one day closer to that desperate need that I have as a mother to love on you. 

And while I wait, I will choose to live my life in a way that is full; full of love, full of peace and contentment, full of laughter. And yet I know it will also still be full of pain and longing. For I have now learned that all of these things can live inside of me together.

So, let me say I am honored. I am honored and blessed to be your mom, and I imagine and dream of our reunion someday, filled with love and joy that goes beyond words to describe it.

But until then, I will have good days and bad days. I will have days filled with happiness, and days filled with pain. And all of those days I will continue miss you with every fiber of my being.

We grieve deeply, because we love deeply. That is one of the risks of love. But as the poem reminds us, our child is forever in our hearts and in our thoughts. He or she is forever a part of our very being. Our separation is only temporary, because God, in His deep love for our child and for us, made a way for that to be possible.

Consider praying this prayer with me: Lord, my deep grief is a reminder of my deep love that cannot be poured out on my child right now. But someday we will be together again, and all this stored up love will be dumped on my child! And Father, I ask that right now, you would give my child a big hug from me, and love on them in my place. Thank you.

 

If you were to buy a little Valentine gift to show your child how much you love and miss them, what would it be? I would love to have you share it in the comments below.

 

By the way, Laura has written a song that expresses some of the thoughts above. Click here to listen to the song Together Forever.

 

 

 

 

Expressions of Hope is written by author, speaker and singer Laura Diehl. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). Dave and Laura travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, including being invited to hold one-day GPS Hope & Healing conferences.

If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event or want more information on hosting a GPS Hope & Healing conference, click here.

 

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A New Year Means New…?

Every time a new year shows up, it brings lots of emotions for many of us bereaved parents, especially if this is the first time the calendar has turned since your child died.

There are lots of words that can describe what we think and how we feel. Numb, regret, anger, sorrow, fear, confusion… I am sure you could add quite a few of your own words to this list.

These are all valid, for sure! And as you can see, they are all negative. So, how can we start to move the needle toward the positive, especially if we don’t see how that is even possible? Or maybe you are someone who doesn’t know if they even want to?

I believe there is a word that is the bridge between the two.

HOPE

When we have no hope, we have no desire to live.

We know the enemy is out to steal from us and kill us. If he can’t do it physically, he will do it emotionally. When our child dies, we have the biggest red target on us for the enemy to do exactly that. He steals our hope, leaving us wanting to die to go be with our child. Even if we have other children, a wonderful marriage and had a life full of purpose and passion before our child’s death, it all comes crashing down and we are left in a world of darkness and hopelessness.

However, the death of our child did not blindside God like it might have done to us. That means we do not have to stay a slave, chained to our prison of darkness with no hope. Jesus came to break every chain that could ever try to keep us bound. He will carry us through this valley of death, back into a place of abounding hope.

There is a seed of hope already inside of you! It may be dormant at the moment, but it is there. It just needs to be nurtured, and in time, in its season, it will begin to break through the hard ground and begin to sprout.

And that brings up another word.

TIME

Time can be terrifying to us now. Time means we are getting further away from our child. In the beginning, I used to dread the day my daughter would be gone for five years, and I couldn’t imagine her not being here for ten or twenty years or more. The thought of it can take my breath away and bring stinging tears!

And yet, as time goes by, it also means we are getting closer to seeing our child again, and that makes me excited!

The pendulum of time…it is all in our perspective.

I don’t believe that saying, “Time heals all wounds.” That is impossible when it comes to the death of our child. But I do believe what we do with our time makes a big difference in how long we stay in that place of suffocating darkness.

And one thing we can do, that can bring a huge shift is to

SURRENDER

This is not easy to do, especially if we feel like God betrayed us by allowing our child to leave this earth (and even more so if it was a traumatic departure).

During grief, people either move toward God or away from Him. But the truth is, when we move away from Him, we are moving away from the One who can help us the most. God wants to walk with us through this valley of death. He wants to give us comfort and strength. He wants to give us hope and yes, even a vision for our future that still has good things in it.

These are all things we desperately need. But if we choose to move away from Him, we will continue to desperately need these things.

Grieving the death of your child is a time to get as close to God as you possibly can.

It makes me think of a distraught child crying uncontrollably and his father bending down to embrace and comfort him. The son is so upset he is kicking and screaming and fighting, not wanting to be picked up and loved on. Eventually the child runs out of strength and relaxes in the embrace of his loving father. And now that child can receive the comfort, strength and hope he wants and needs.

It is the same with us. Don’t fight the One who can give you the very things you need. Surrender, allowing Him to embrace you and carry you in His strong arms of love.

In talking about surrender, I mentioned another word:

FUTURE

Like I said, the death of our child did not blindside God. In His eyes, we still have a life to live. He has a plan for us, and believe it or not, it is a good plan. Does it seem next to impossible to believe that? How can a good plan for our future be one that is without our child in it?

I had to learn the reality of the truth that my plans are not God’s plans. His ways are not my ways. His thoughts are not my thoughts. I have grown into a deeper faith in how awesomely powerful my God is. That He really can take something as horrific as the death of a child, and somehow, miraculously, bring good from it.

If my focus is on my loss, I cannot rise above it to face my future. But if my focus is on my promised future, then it is much easier to rise above the loss and step forward into that future and the good things God still has for me. (And don’t forget about the future we will have in eternity, never to be separated from our child again!)

Not only do we still have a future with good things in it, our life can have meaning and

PURPOSE

Each of us has a set number of days here on this old earth, and then we move on to the glorious side of eternity. Our child’s time here was much too short as far as we are concerned, and we were supposed to go first. But the fact remains, our child has now moved on to his or her permanent home and is more alive and full of life than we are! For reasons we don’t understand, their purpose on earth was completed before ours was.

So now it is important that we continue moving forward in our earthly purpose, so that when we join our child who is waiting for us, we will both hear the wonderful words, “Well done, good and faithful servant…Enter into the joy of your Lord.” (Matthew 25:21 NKJV)

And that brings me to my final word:

LIFE

Bad things happen to good people. Horrible and evil things happen to God’s people. You have paid what many will say is the ultimate price of sacrifice on this earth—the death of your son or daughter. (Sound familiar? I know someone else who paid the price of His Son a little over two thousand years ago.) But you did not give your child willingly or have a choice.

The question is: Are you going to let it be a wasted sacrifice? Are you going to become bitter or better? What value are you going to place on the life of your child? That is where the mind shift happens. Life or death?

I refuse to let death cause more death! I will not give the enemy that kind of a victory! Because Jesus lives, I can live. I have allowed my God to make good on His promises in my life, to give strength to the weary and hope to the hopeless. And I will allow that hope to continue to grow as it becomes joy that reaches beyond death, both my child’s and mine.

I hope and pray in this new year, you decide to make the same choice.

I want to encourage you to ask God to give you a specific word for this year: a word that represents what He wants to work into your life through this grief journey. My word is joy. I want and need the fullness of His joy back in my life again. I would love to know in the blog comments what your word is!

Much of this blog was taken from the My Grief Journey: Coloring Book and Journal for Bereaved Parents. It has forty-two words that describe our life after the death of our child. Each word has a coloring page, a journaling prompt, a thought about that word, and an appropriate scripture. Here is a list of those words:

We would like to offer our readers the same recent discount as our listeners to the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast. You can purchase When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life with Hope and Healing After the death of Your Child for $1 off, PLUS receive a FREE copy of My Grief Journey: A Coloring Book and Journal for Bereaved Parents! 

Just click here, put the When Tragedy Strikes book in your cart and use the promo code PODCAST37.

 

Expressions of Hope is written by author, speaker and singer Laura Diehl. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). Dave and Laura travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, including being invited to hold one-day GPS Hope & Healing conferences.

If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event or want more information on hosting a GPS Hope & Healing conference, click here.

 

 

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