By Bev Leckie
When my Mom passed away, she was finally honored for her love, for her faith, and for her persistence. We grew up with nothing, but we grew up with a mom who held on to her faith in the darkness of life.
She sang in the choir, but mostly she sang to her eight children in a Brooklyn “railroad flat”, two bedrooms with four beds, bedrooms fully open one to the other, with all eight of us sleeping 2 to a bed, heads at different ends. Mom sat on one of the beds and began to sing the old hymns I still love, until we all fell asleep. She sang the songs of faith that tell me much more about my Mom and my God today than they did decades ago. And one of those hymns was almost always, Under His Wings, which was one of my mom’s most favorite songs.
As much as Mom knew and persisted through a deep depth of darkness as she fought to bring her children to adulthood, she clung desperately to her faith. She begged God for the reality of the words that she sang. She yearned for her God, and she knew the refuge He could give in sorrow. And, yes, she hid beneath His wings of love, shelter, and protection until Jesus called her home to Heaven.
When my own daughter died, my Mom would have done anything she could to protect me from the ravages of pain and emptiness, questions, guilt, shame, and the isolating loneliness that the death of a child can bring.
My Mom could do none of that, but her words of truth, in time, penetrated my grief and sent me to the God who wanted to draw me close, cover me with His presence, and in a profuse outpouring, immerse me in the faithfulness of His promises.
Roy Lessin says, “Being under His wings means being close to His heart – you are not only sheltered, you are loved; you are not only secure, you are cared for; you are not only covered, you are reassured.”
I have said many times that what I most 
wanted in my grief was to know with absolute certainty, that my God is right here – to know that I am not alone, and to know that my emptiness and my tears are softened and quieted by a presence that can come no closer.
God’s faithfulness, though, embraces both me and my child. It is a forever faithfulness, a faithfulness of redemption, and a faithfulness that transcends from temporal to eternal. It is a faithfulness consistent with His heart of love for both me and my child; a faithful love that longs to embrace both me and my child in the eternal perfections of Heaven; a place where my child can not only dance with Jesus, but some day, I too, can dance with my child.
And while I wait in the temporal, God’s redemptive faithfulness brings beauty from the ashes of tragedy. As I rest beneath the sheltering protection of His wings, I will also find that my child is not forgotten, and the light of my child’s short life can still shine.
Under His wings, under His wings, who from His love can sever? Under His wings, my soul shall abide, safely abide forever.
Thank You, thank You, precious Father, for the faithful warmth of Your embrace.
(Related Bible reading: Psalm 91:4)
Bev Leckie’s life has been a miracle of grace as 
she has watched God transform a childhood and youth of dysfunction, abuse, and wrong choices, and then the death of her daughter after a full term pregnancy, into outreaches of compassion and understanding.
She has served alongside her pastor husband for almost 50 years in both South Carolina and California. Having a heart for women, she has mentored those with abusive histories, and then found Umbrella Ministries, giving her both comfort and a connection through which she could share the comfort God has given her with other grieving moms. And through it all, God has allowed her to write, ultimately focusing primarily on devotional writing for women, those who grieve or struggle in other areas, and those just called to do life. To contact Bev, email her at bleckie@sbcglobal.net.
Expressions of Hope is provided by 
Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). The founders, Dave and Laura Diehl, travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, and bringing intimate weekend retreats to bereaved parents. Laura is also a singer/songwriter and the author of multiple award-winning books.
If you would like more information about bringing Dave and Laura to you for an event, please send an email to office@gpshope.org.
If you are interested in bringing GPS Hope to your area for a weekend retreat click here.
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As we already noted, I am sure Mary had no idea that her son would die a very brutal death at the age of 33, and she would be there to watch it.
On the other hand, we have to fight the guilt that we weren’t there with them, feeling like he or she died alone.
I want to wrap this up by looking at a scripture that talks about Jesus’ mother in Luke 11:27-28. As Jesus was saying these things, a woman in the crowd called out, “Blessed is the mother who gave you birth and nursed you.” Jesus replied, “Even more blessed are those who hear God’s voice and make God’s message their way of life”. (VOICE)
He allowed all of these horrible things to happen to some of us and is selective on who He helps and who He does not. God is in the business of redeeming and restoring what the enemy corrupts and damages. So maybe, we aren’t looking at it through the right eyes. We are trying to humanize God, which just isn’t possible.
God’s specialty is restoring, redeeming, peace, loving us through our doubts, anger, bitterness and blaming Him. Here is something I wrote in my book When Tragedy Strikes.
God or away from Him. But 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. He wants to give us strength. He wants to give us hope. These are all things we desperately need. But if we choose to move away from Him, we will continue to desperately need these things. This is a time to get as close to God as you possibly can. 
You are on your own journey, and I am so honored and blessed to be walking some of it with you. For me, I would go crazy if I believed Becca’s life was over, she is nothing but dust now and I will never ever see her again; never be able to hug her or hear her laugh. I get so much more peace from believing that God sees the big picture, that He knew the exact second Becca’s heart would stop and her last breath would be taken, and He knows that about me as well, and He put a plan in place before that ever happened so that we could be together again. He was there to meet Becca when she crossed over, and He and Becca will be there to meet me when I cross over.
Everything is now bittersweet, and quite often more bitter than sweet. We want to celebrate the graduations, the weddings and the precious new births and join the family holiday festivities. And we do, in our own way. But each life event is another slap-in-the-face reminder of who isn’t there and should have been. We can’t help but feel the aching emptiness. And being in a happy place surrounded by people who are celebrating, doesn’t necessarily make us feel better like some people tell us it will, but often just compounds the grief and brings it all back.
them to hear their voice. We will never hear them laugh. We will never see their face. We won’t know what they look like two years or ten years or twenty years from now. We will never buy a birthday or Christmas gift for them. We will never hear them say, ”I love you” or be able to give them a hug. EVER… all we have now are memories of who they were…
because I know they aren’t. You see, it becomes our job to make those around us comfortable with our grief. We have to put on our masks and convince those around us that we are okay, because if we don’t, either people don’t want to be around us, or they try to fix us and tell us we should be doing better by now. So we pretend, so they don’t have to grieve with us.
rejoicing with those who rejoice, like Romans 12:15 tells us. But we aren’t very good at the second half of that verse, where we are told to weep with those who weep. (Some versions say to mourn with those who mourn or adds “sharing in their grief.”) And by the way, I notice that God doesn’t tell us to try and fix them if they are mourning for what we think might be too long of a time. He just tells us to join them in their place of sorrow.
I also look for friends who allow me to be who I am now, and not try to hang on to the person I used to be. Unfortunately, there aren’t many out there. Most of them are also bereaved parents who get it.
national speaker and singer. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (
Up until last summer, my husband and I were blessed to have all four of our parents still here on this earth. (Dave’s dad passed last July, and my dad passed last month), so all four of them were still here on earth when Becca died.
prayed a lot, clinging to the only One who can really bring any comfort at a time like this. I am thankful for the One who can express my heart to the Father, when I don’t really even know how to pray (per Romans 8:26). 
hard on the mother of a child. It’s hard on all of us. But for me, I try to look past the death, and see where she (Becca) is today. Death is one thing all of us are going to face. Each one of us is going to die, and we know there is nothing we can do about it. It is actually part of living.
differently. I’m blessed to know that even though here, death separates us from our loved ones, up there, even death cannot separate us. I look forward to that, because I’ve got lots of ‘em up there. Knowing I am going to see them again softens the pain, but every time it leaves a mark.
