Just hours after my mother’s sudden death, I sat on her bed undone by grief, regret, and questions that felt too heavy to carry. As I sorted through her belongings, receipt after receipt revealed a hidden battle with alcoholism—one she had denied for years. In that devastating moment, God met me in the truth I had long avoided.
Through the help of an addiction specialist, I finally understood the quiet mantra that had shaped my mother’s life: I have a problem… but not today.
Her story became my invitation. An invitation not to numb pain, not to run from it—but to face it. Healing, I learned, only begins when we dare to run toward the very pain we’ve spent our lives trying to escape.
