In the first part of my conversation with Becky Russell, we heard about her daughter, Jae, and the accident that took her life. Becky also shared how deeply Jae’s death shook her faith. She found herself questioning things she had never thought she would question and trying to figure out who God was in the middle of such devastating pain.

We began talking about four parts of our worldview: origin, morality, meaning, and destiny. Those words may sound a little formal, but what they represent is very personal. They are the beliefs we carry about where we came from, how we know what is right, why our lives matter, and what happens when this life is over.

When child loss shakes what you believe, these are no longer just ideas to discuss. They become the questions of a broken heart. In this part of our conversation, Becky and I talked about meaning and destiny, along with the question that helped her begin finding her way through the spiritual mayhem.

When Life No Longer Feels Meaningful

After our child dies, it can feel as though the meaning of our own life died too. Many pareavors find themselves wondering why they are still here and what purpose life could possibly have without their child in it.

For Becky, meaning had always been connected to serving the Lord by serving people. After Jae died, that did not mean she was ready to do something big. It often meant something very small, such as noticing someone who was lost in the hallway where she worked and helping that person find where they needed to go.

Her prayer became, “Lord, give me someone to encourage today.”

I love the simplicity of that. Becky was not talking about starting a foundation or taking on a major project while she could barely breathe. She was talking about one small moment that helped her step outside her own pain long enough to see another person. Those moments became little life preservers that helped her make it through the day.

That does not mean serving someone else takes away our grief. It does not carry us through the entire journey or suddenly make life feel worthwhile again. But it can be like finding a chair when we have been standing for too long. We sit for a moment, catch our breath, and then keep going.

When child loss shakes what you believe, even a tiny step can feel impossible. We do not need to pressure ourselves into doing more than we can. But we can ask God to open our eyes to one small thing in front of us and allow that moment to remind us that we are still here.

Our life is not worth living in spite of our child’s death. It is worth living because our child lived. I do not want to honor the fact that Becca died. I want to honor the fact that she lived by the way I live my life. It is not the pain that keeps us attached to our children; it is the love that keeps us connected.

Asking God, “What Now?”

Fairly early in her grief, Becky wrote the words “What now?” on her bathroom mirror with a dry erase marker. Each time she brushed her teeth or got ready for the day, she saw those words.

Part of that question was directed toward herself: What are you going to do with this? But it was also directed toward God: “What now, God? How are You going to bring me out of this darkness? How are You going to take the death of my child and somehow bring something good into my life?”

She was not saying Jae’s death could become good. There is an important difference between God calling the death of our child good and God bringing something good into our life after it. Sometimes the miracle is simply that we survive something we were sure would destroy us.

Becky watched other parents who had found their way back into life. They laughed again. They felt joy again. They still missed their children, but their child’s death no longer completely pushed everything else out of their lives. Becky began telling herself, “If they can do it, I can do it.”

She could not understand how time would change anything because Jae would always be gone. I think most of us understand that. If the reality does not change, how could the pain ever feel different? And yet, Becky held on to what she saw in other pareavors and to the foundation of her faith that God would eventually make everything right.

Time is part of what changes grief, but what we do with that time matters too. Asking “What now?” does not mean we need a plan for the rest of our lives. It may simply mean asking God to show us the next small thing.

When Heaven Suddenly Becomes Personal

The fourth part of our worldview is destiny: What happens after we die?

Becky had always heard about heaven. She grew up singing songs about it and seeing “pictures” of heaven and angels. But after Jae died, the things she had always pictured were no longer comforting. Heaven had seemed somewhat sterile to her, without much activity. Now her daughter was there, and she needed to look more closely at what she truly believed.

For Becky, life continues after death, and love continues too. Heaven is not an empty place where our children are waiting in loneliness. It is a place of unfathomable love and continued relationship, even though we cannot understand exactly what that will look like.

She believes God never takes us backward. He takes us into something better than we could have imagined. She has no doubt that when she arrives in heaven, her response will be, “Oh, if I had only known.”

Becky also believes our children are not experiencing heaven as years and years of waiting for us. Our minds have a hard time understanding that because everything here is measured by clocks and calendars. We cannot fully comprehend eternity or what it means to be outside time as we know it.

But we can hold on to the hope that our children are fully alive, fully loved, and not impatiently counting the years until we join them. When child loss shakes what you believe, that hope can become a place to rest, even when there is still so much we do not understand.

“I Don’t Know If I Believe That Anymore”

As Becky wrestled with all of this, she talked with a close friend who understood theology and was willing to sit with her questions. Becky would bring her the things she was struggling with, listen to her answer, and then say, “I don’t know if I believe that anymore.”

That sentence holds so much. Many of us who believed in God before our child died have found ourselves in that same place. We still want to trust Him, but we have encountered a side of life, and perhaps a side of God, that we do not recognize. We find ourselves asking, “God, who are You, really? I don’t know this side of You.”

Becky’s prayers felt futile. She had prayed for Jae’s protection, and Jae died anyway. At one point, when Becky and her husband needed to replace their car, he suggested they go home and pray about it. Becky told him, “I am not praying about it. I prayed about the other car she was driving.”

I am grateful Becky shared that honestly, because this is what it can sound like when child loss shakes what you believe. It is not a neat discussion about faith. It can be anger, confusion, silence, and wondering whether our prayers ever mattered.

Begin With What You Do Believe

After hearing Becky say several times that she did not know what she believed anymore, her friend gently asked her to pause. Instead of continuing to focus on everything she no longer believed, she asked Becky to back up and identify what she did believe. What did she still know? What truths was she still confident in?

That question became a turning point. Becky began writing, and what came from it was a personal manifesto. Her manifesto included things such as her belief that God never changes and that His nature is not dependent on her understanding. She wrote that her view of God would not be determined by her circumstances, and that she would always be amazed by His capacity for grace.

She wrote that she would live in the power of the moment instead of regretting the past or fearing the future. She acknowledged that her life could be exciting and satisfying without always being comfortable or safe, and she wanted her life to show love and grace.

She ended by affirming that her life would continue after she died on this earth. Death held no power over her or the people she loved, and she would never stop longing for the place she had never been.

When child loss shakes what you believe, you may not be ready to write something like Becky’s manifesto. That is okay. You may only be able to name one thing you still believe. But that one truth can become an anchor when doubt and fear begin pulling at you again.

You may still be wrestling with God over things that do not make sense. You may not have all the answers you once thought you had. The question is not whether every doubt has been settled. The question is, what do you still believe? What can you choose to hold on to while your heart is hurting?

We Are Walking Each Other Home

As we closed our conversation, Becky said something I thought was beautiful: “We are all walking each other home.”

None of us wanted to be on this road. We did not choose to have our faith shaken or to wrestle with questions we never imagined we would be asking. But there is something comforting about knowing we do not have to figure it all out before we can keep walking, and we do not have to walk alone.

Maybe you do not know what you believe right now. Maybe the things you once felt certain about no longer feel certain at all. That does not mean you have failed God or that you are grieving wrong. God is not frightened by your questions, your confusion, or even your anger.

You may not be able to believe that life can ever feel meaningful again. You may not be able to imagine wanting to live the life that is now in front of you. If that is where you are, please do not force yourself to reach for something that feels impossible.

For now, perhaps it is enough to let someone else hold that hope for you. Those of us who are farther down this road can gently carry the belief that your pain will not always feel exactly as it does today. We can walk beside you without rushing you, fixing you, or expecting you to see what you cannot yet see.

You do not need to have your beliefs sorted out. You do not need to know what comes next. For today, you can simply breathe, grieve, ask your questions, and allow yourself to be loved. And when you cannot take another step, we will keep walking beside you, because we really are walking each other home.

NOTE: This was partially taken from the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast episode 363. Click here to listen to the full discussion, or look for the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast on your favorite listening app.

Connect with Becky Russel:

Weepyseeds blog

Personal Facebook page 

Find out more about The GPS Hope Grief Cruise in October, 2027.

Check out all the GPS Hope resources here.

To support this podcast and, keep it ad-free, and get exclusive content, visit us on Patreon

Download our FREE GUIDE. Rebuilding Your Life: A Gentle Guide Toward Hope and Healing After Child Loss. Discover gentle encouragement for your broken heart, practical support for the days ahead, and hope that meets you right where you are.

AWARD WINNING AUTHOR, LAURA DIEHL, has written several impactful books that provide comfort and guidance to those navigating the painful journey of child loss, after the death of her own daughter in 2011. Her most acclaimed work, When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life with Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child, has received multiple accolades, including the 2017 Gold Medal Centauri Christian Book Award for Non-Fiction and a Silver Medal in the 2018 Illumination Awards. Several of her other books have won awards as well.

In addition to her writing, Laura is an ordained minister and has an extensive background in international children’s ministry. She is a sought-after speaker and singer at grief conferences and churches, known for her compassionate approach and deep understanding of the grieving process, especially the unique loss of a child. Through her weekly award-winning podcast, her writings, and other resources provided by GPS Hope, Laura and her husband, Dave, continue to provide hope and healing to thousands of parents worldwide, helping them find light in the midst of profound loss and darkness.

For more information about Laura’s award-winning books go to gpshope.org/books.
To find out more about Laura Diehl and the ministry of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope) visit gpshope.org.

The link to Hope for the Future is an affiliate link, allowing part of the purchase price to go to GPS Hope. 

I recently met Becky Russell at a Bereaved Parents USA gathering. After attending one of her workshops, I knew I wanted to have her on the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast.

Becky and I are both on this road because of the loss of our daughters. Our conversation centered on how faith shapes grief after child loss and why it is important to understand the spiritual foundation we carry with us into our grief.

When Jae Lynn’s Death Shook Becky’s Faith

Becky and her husband adopted their daughter, Jae Lynn, at birth after being childless for several years. Jae was a positive, optimistic and whimsical child who was highly creative and had a gift for making friends.

When Jae was sixteen, she was killed in a car accident, along with two of her friends. Her sudden death left Becky and her entire family devastated and began a grief journey they never could have imagined.

Becky described what happened as a spiritual disorientation. Her faith had always been a steady part of her life, but suddenly she found herself asking questions that she never thought she would ask.

The Spiritual Foundation We Carry into Grief

Becky grew up in a small Southern Baptist church where her father was the song leader (what many churches now call the worship leader). From the time she was in the nursery, she received a steady stream of biblical doctrine and theology.

More importantly, she saw those beliefs lived out at home. Her parents served their church and community, cared for people in need, and helped others even when they did not have much themselves.

Becky was raised with the belief that God is good. She was also taught that faithful people can still have terrible things happen to them. She was not raised with a prosperity gospel mentality that said following God guaranteed an easy life.

Because of that strong spiritual foundation, Becky would have said she had an unshakable faith.

Then Jae Lynn died.

This is part of how faith shapes grief after child loss. The beliefs we carried before our child died affect the questions we ask afterward. They influence what we expect from God and what we reach for when everything familiar has been shaken.

Questions She Never Thought She Would Ask

As the chaos of those first days began to slow down, Becky tried to imagine life without Jae. Her thoughts turned toward questions such as, “How did this happen?” and “Why did this happen?”

She would go to Jae’s grave, look toward heaven, and ask God, “What are You doing? I don’t understand this.”

Because her daughters were adopted, Becky often ended their bedtime prayers by thanking God for their adoption stories and asking Him to help them find their destinies because of it.

After the accident, she wondered, “Was this her destiny? Was this the plan all along? Is this where all the prayers I prayed for this child were going to end?”

Becky does not describe herself as being angry with God, but she was confused and laid low by questions she never expected to face. There were even moments when she wondered, “What if none of this is real?”

But she kept coming back to her faith. It was the only thing that could eventually help her make sense of any of this.

I personally understood that. For me, it was more like, “What else do I have to hold on to?” My faith was the only thing I had to help me get through the intense pain and suffocating darkness. 

When we talk about how faith shapes grief after child loss, we are not saying that strong faith keeps us from questioning God. The death of our child can leave even those of us who have walked with Him for years feeling spiritually disoriented. 

Faith Is Trust, Not Making Demands

Not every pareavor enters grief with the same spiritual background Becky and I had. Some have been taught that if they say the right words, quote the right Scripture, or have enough faith, God must do what they ask.

I call that presumptuous faith, and I experienced it when my daughter, Becca, was diagnosed with cancer at three years old. She had her leg amputated and went through nine months of chemotherapy.

I thought that the more people I told God was going to heal her, based on Scripture, the more God would have to heal her. When He did not, it sent me on a journey of trying to understand what faith really is.

I eventually came to the conclusion that faith is trust. It is not making demands on God.

When I believe I can make God do what I think He should do, I put Him into my little box or my little genie lamp. A God I can control is not big enough to be God.

Faith is trusting Him through the confusion. It is continuing to move toward Him while working through our questions and even the anger that many grieving parents understandably feel toward Him.

This is an important part of how faith shapes grief after child loss. Our grief may expose whether our faith was based on trusting God or on believing that our faith would protect us from tragedy.

Looking at the Foundation of Our Worldview

As Becky tried to understand what was happening spiritually, she found it helpful to look at four elements of worldview: origin, morality, meaning, and destiny.

We often hear phrases such as Christian worldview, biblical worldview, or secular worldview. Becky had heard those terms throughout her adult life and assumed she had a Christian worldview, but she was not sure she could clearly explain what that meant.

This four-part framework resonated with her because it was simple. We need to keep things simple in our grief. Complex explanations are difficult to process when our minds are already overwhelmed.

Origin: Where Did Life Come From?

The first element is origin. Where did life come from? What is the origin of humanity and creation?

Becky’s foundational belief is that God created life, the heavens, and the earth. She cannot explain scientifically exactly how He did it, but she believes that the complexity of humanity and creation points back to God as Creator.

This belief becomes significant after our child dies. If we believe our child was intentionally created by God, then their life was not an accident. Their identity and value did not begin with us, and they do not end at the grave.

Our beliefs about origin become part of how faith shapes grief after child loss because they provide a foundation through which we understand our child’s life and death.

Morality: How Do We Determine Right and Wrong?

The second element is morality. How do we determine what is right and wrong?

For Becky, morality is based on Scripture. The Ten Commandments provide a foundation, and throughout the Bible we see the results of people’s decisions. We see which choices hurt others and which ones reflect love and obedience to God.

Today, we often hear people talk about living “their truth.” But what happens when your truth and my truth conflict? If everyone defines truth individually, whose truth is actually true?

We also cannot base truth on culture because culture continually changes. What one generation accepts as normal may be rejected by another, and the cultural lines keep moving.

The truth found in God’s Word does not change. Some people see biblical boundaries as restrictive, but those boundaries can bring freedom and peace.

This is another way we see how faith shapes grief after child loss. When our world has been shattered, we need a foundation that is not constantly moving beneath us.

When “God Is Good” Feels Impossible to Say

Most of us are familiar with being in a church congregation when someone says, “God is good,” and everyone responds, “All the time.” Then the leader says, “And all the time,” and the congregation answers, “God is good.”

That is something many pareavors refuse to say after the death of their child because it can be very difficult to believe.

The other day, something came to me that can take the place of that familiar saying when “God is good” feels impossible to speak:

God is with us… all the time. And all the time…God is with us.

That truth is at the heart of how faith shapes grief after child loss. We may be confused. We may have questions we never thought we would ask. We may not recognize this side of God, and we may not understand what He is doing.

Our spiritual foundation may feel as though it has been shattered. But even there, God has not left us. When we cannot make sense of what has happened and do not know what else we believe, we can begin with this:

God is with us all the time. And all the time, God is with us.

In this first part of my conversation with Becky, we focused on origin and morality. Meaning and destiny became part of the second half of our discussion, which will be shared next week.

NOTE: This was partially taken from the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast episode 362. Click here to listen to the full discussion, or look for the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast on your favorite listening app.

Would you like to honor your child by sponsoring a podcast episode on a meaningful week? Click here.

Find out more about The GPS Hope Grief Cruise in October, 2027.

To receive the weekly email of encouragement Laura was referring to click here.

Check out all the GPS Hope resources here.

To support this podcast and, keep it ad-free, and get exclusive content, visit us on Patreon

Download our FREE GUIDE. Rebuilding Your Life: A Gentle Guide Toward Hope and Healing After Child Loss. Discover gentle encouragement for your broken heart, practical support for the days ahead, and hope that meets you right where you are.

AWARD WINNING AUTHOR, LAURA DIEHL, has written several impactful books that provide comfort and guidance to those navigating the painful journey of child loss, after the death of her own daughter in 2011. Her most acclaimed work, When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life with Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child, has received multiple accolades, including the 2017 Gold Medal Centauri Christian Book Award for Non-Fiction and a Silver Medal in the 2018 Illumination Awards. Several of her other books have won awards as well.

In addition to her writing, Laura is an ordained minister and has an extensive background in international children’s ministry. She is a sought-after speaker and singer at grief conferences and churches, known for her compassionate approach and deep understanding of the grieving process, especially the unique loss of a child. Through her weekly award-winning podcast, her writings, and other resources provided by GPS Hope, Laura and her husband, Dave, continue to provide hope and healing to thousands of parents worldwide, helping them find light in the midst of profound loss and darkness.

For more information about Laura’s award-winning books go to gpshope.org/books.
To find out more about Laura Diehl and the ministry of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope) visit gpshope.org.

The link to Hope for the Future is an affiliate link, allowing part of the purchase price to go to GPS Hope. 

Have you ever had one of those moments when a thought comes to you and you stop and think, “Why have I never seen it this way before?”

That happened to me recently while I was responding to an email. I found myself writing something I had never really thought about before, and as soon as I wrote it, I knew I wanted to share it. It gave me a new way to think about heaven after child loss, and maybe it will give you a new perspective as well.

We often say that unless someone has lost a child, they cannot possibly understand what this kind of pain feels like. They can sympathize with us. They can love us and walk alongside us. But they cannot fully know the darkness or the pain that is beyond words unless they have experienced it themselves.

And then this thought hit me: Unless you have been to heaven, you cannot possibly know what it is like either. We can read about the freedom, the peace, the love and the beauty. We can believe everything God tells us about it. But we have never experienced it.

And our kids are there!

What If Heaven Is as Hard to Explain as Our Grief?

I have always believed that heaven is beyond what can be described or comprehended. I have often said that when Romans 8:18 talks about how the glory to come cannot even be compared with the suffering we go through here, it must be SOME glory based on how deep our suffering is from losing a child!

As pareavors, we know what deep suffering feels like. We know what it is like to wake up to another day without our child. We know the darkness that can settle over our hearts and the ache that follows us into birthdays, holidays, family gatherings and even ordinary moments.

But I had never stopped to really think about the fact that just like I can’t describe to someone the pain and darkness the death of one’s child throws you into, maybe our kids would not be able to describe to us the total peace, perfection and glory they now live in.

Think about that for a minute.

Have you ever tried to explain to someone what it feels like to lose a child? There simply are not words. You can describe the tears. You can describe the loneliness. You can describe the feeling that part of you has been ripped away. But no matter how hard you try, someone who has never experienced the death of a child cannot truly understand what it feels like.

Now turn that around.

What if our children tried to explain heaven to us? How would they describe a place where there is no fear, sickness, disappointment, regret, loneliness, tears or death? How would they explain standing in the presence of Jesus? How could they possibly put into words the peace, perfection and overwhelming love they are experiencing?

I don’t think they could!

Maybe it would be just as impossible for them to describe heaven to us, as it is for us to describe child loss to someone who has never experienced it.

Our children know something we don’t.

They no longer have to wonder what heaven is like. They know.

For me, that has become a new way to think about heaven after child loss.

When You’re Not Sure Your Child Is in Heaven

Before I move on, I want to speak to those whose hearts may have gone somewhere completely different while reading this. As I’ve been talking about our children being in heaven, some of you may have felt a knot in your stomach because you’re not sure your child is there.

I know this is one of the deepest fears some grieving parents carry. Maybe your child never made a profession of faith that you know about. Maybe they had walked away from God. Maybe you simply don’t know, and that question has tormented you.

I don’t have all the answers. None of us do. There are things about eternity that belong to God alone. But I do know the heart of our Heavenly Father.

I believe God’s love for your child is even greater than your love for your child. As impossible as that may seem, He created your son or daughter, He loves them with a perfect love, and His desire has always been to draw them into a relationship with Him.

Because of that, I believe God is big enough to have made every opportunity possible for your child to accept Him before leaving this earth. That could have happened during a time you know nothing about. It could have happened in a quiet conversation with God that was never shared with anyone else. It could even have happened in the final moments of your child’s life.

Not having the information that you desperately want to have doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. The way I see it, you can continue living in the torment of fear that your child might not be there, or you can live with peace, trusting that God made every opportunity possible for your child to receive His gift of salvation, even at the moment of crossing over, and your child accepted that gift and is waiting for you. 

I’m not trying to settle a theological debate. I simply want to encourage you to trust the heart of a God who loves your child even more than you do. There are questions we may not have answered until we get to heaven ourselves, but we can take those questions and fears to Him.

Knowing About Heaven Doesn’t Take Away the Pain

Before I go any further, though, I want to make something very clear. This new perspective (of heaven being so incredible our children would not be able to describe it to us) does not somehow make our pain disappear.

As much as I believe Becca is in heaven, and as much as I believe she is experiencing a joy beyond anything I can imagine, I still miss her. I still wish she were here. I still wish she could be sitting around the table with the rest of our family. Believing that heaven is wonderful doesn’t take away the ache of wishing our children were still here with us.

One of the things I have said for many years is that being a spiritual person doesn’t automatically erase the painful effects of our child leaving this earth ahead of us. Knowing our child is in heaven and believing we will see him or her again someday doesn’t bring some kind of God sized eraser that wipes away all the pain. It simply doesn’t work that way.

Sometimes, especially as Christians, I think we put pressure on ourselves that God never intended us to carry. We think that because we believe in heaven, we shouldn’t hurt so much. We may even wonder if something is wrong with our faith because the grief is still so deep after several years.

But I don’t believe God asks us to choose between hope and sorrow. He allows us to carry both at the same time.

There is a part of my heart that is incredibly happy for Becca. She will never know pain again. She will never face another surgery. She has both legs and no more heart issues. She is with Jesus, and there isn’t one part of me that would ever want to take that away from her.

But there is another part of me that still misses my daughter.

Those two things don’t cancel each other out. They live together in my heart. I can rejoice for where she is while grieving the fact that she isn’t here. I think that is one of the tensions we learn to carry as pareavors.

And this is important when we talk about a new way to think about heaven after child loss. Seeing heaven differently does not mean we suddenly stop grieving. It simply gives us another perspective to hold alongside our grief.

When Heaven Becomes Personal

I think one of the biggest changes that happens after the death of our child is that we begin living between two worlds.

Before Becca died, heaven was absolutely real to me because God’s Word tells us it is real. I believed the promises Scripture makes about eternity, and I looked forward to going there someday. But if I’m honest, I believed in heaven, but I wasn’t constantly thinking about it.

Then Becca died.

Suddenly, heaven wasn’t just a place I read about in my Bible. It became personal because someone I loved with all my heart was living there.

That is another part of finding a new way to think about heaven after child loss. We don’t become so heavenly minded that we stop caring about our lives here on earth. God still has purpose for us. He still has people for us to love, work for us to do and lives for us to touch. We still have family and friends, and we still have opportunities to reflect the love of Christ to those around us.

But something inside us has changed forever. Part of our heart is already in heaven.

I don’t mean that we should spend our days wishing our lives away. I don’t believe that’s God’s desire for us. We aren’t called to sit and wait until we die so we can be with our child again. We are called to live the life He has given us with purpose and faithfulness, even when it hurts.

At the same time, I don’t think we should apologize for longing for heaven more than we used to.

“But Laura, You’ve Made a Deposit There”

Almost one year to the day of Becca’s transfer to heaven, I admitted something to a friend that I felt terrible about. I told her I was looking forward to seeing Becca more than I was looking forward to seeing Jesus.

Her response was so precious.

“But Laura, you’ve made a deposit there!”

Those words stayed with me.

Several weeks later, I was reading in Matthew and came to chapter 6, verse 21: “Where your treasure is, your heart will be also.” Seeing that in the Word was both confirming and comforting.

My heart wasn’t being drawn toward heaven because I loved Jesus less. Someone I treasured was already there.

I think Jesus understands this. I picture getting to heaven and running to Becca, wrapping my arms around her and giving her the biggest hug ever, while Jesus watches with a huge smile, knowing He made this reunion possible. Then I picture myself turning to Him with so much love and gratefulness because He is the reason I get to have that moment.

And by the way, it took several years for me to get to the place where I could honestly say I am just as excited to see Jesus as I am to see my daughter.

Child loss changed the way I look at heaven. It isn’t just somewhere I am going someday. Someone I love deeply is already there.

A New Way to Think About Heaven After Child Loss

Child loss changed the way I look at heaven. It isn’t just somewhere I am going someday. Someone I love with all my heart is already there.

And now this new thought has given me another perspective. Just as I cannot adequately describe the depth and darkness of losing a child to someone who hasn’t experienced it, maybe Becca couldn’t adequately describe the peace, perfection and glory of heaven to me. She knows something I don’t because she is experiencing something I have never experienced.

That doesn’t make me miss her any less. But there is something comforting about knowing that while I am still trying to imagine what heaven is like, she doesn’t have to imagine it anymore.

She knows.

And one day, I will too.

NOTE: This was partially taken from the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast episode 361. Click here to listen to the full discussion, or look for the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast on your favorite listening app.

My Grief Journey, My Grief Journey for Kids and other books by Laura: www.gpshope.org/books

To receive the weekly email of encouragement Laura was referring to click here.

Check out all the GPS Hope resources here.

To support this podcast and, keep it ad-free, and get exclusive content, visit us on Patreon

Download our FREE GUIDE. Rebuilding Your Life: A Gentle Guide Toward Hope and Healing After Child Loss. Discover gentle encouragement for your broken heart, practical support for the days ahead, and hope that meets you right where you are.

AWARD WINNING AUTHOR, LAURA DIEHL, has written several impactful books that provide comfort and guidance to those navigating the painful journey of child loss, after the death of her own daughter in 2011. Her most acclaimed work, When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life with Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child, has received multiple accolades, including the 2017 Gold Medal Centauri Christian Book Award for Non-Fiction and a Silver Medal in the 2018 Illumination Awards. Several of her other books have won awards as well.

In addition to her writing, Laura is an ordained minister and has an extensive background in international children’s ministry. She is a sought-after speaker and singer at grief conferences and churches, known for her compassionate approach and deep understanding of the grieving process, especially the unique loss of a child. Through her weekly award-winning podcast, her writings, and other resources provided by GPS Hope, Laura and her husband, Dave, continue to provide hope and healing to thousands of parents worldwide, helping them find light in the midst of profound loss and darkness.

For more information about Laura’s award-winning books go to gpshope.org/books.
To find out more about Laura Diehl and the ministry of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope) visit gpshope.org.

The link to Hope for the Future is an affiliate link, allowing part of the purchase price to go to GPS Hope.