This past Easter, I found myself sitting in church without my daughter beside me.
I wasn’t alone—I was surrounded by people worshiping, learning, leaning into the beauty of resurrection. But still, something ached. I watched as dads snapped photos of their wives and babies in pastel dresses. Little girls twirled in front of the sanctuary. Mamas knelt beside Easter baskets and snapped family selfies in the sunshine.
And I sat there quietly, thanking Jesus for rising—and aching just a little that my baby wasn’t there to celebrate with me.
It’s a tension only some will understand.
But then—just a few hours later—God gave me something sacred.
She lost her first tooth, right into her tiny palm.
I got to be there for that.
I got to hold her close and rinse the spot with warm water. I got to comfort her and then cheer with her and hear the laugh that only comes when you’re full of joy. I got to be the one who caught the moment.
And I just whispered, “Thank You, God.”
Because even though I missed the Easter morning snuggles and the songs sung with her beside me, I didn’t miss this.
He let me be there for a moment only a mama can hold.
Sometimes we carry the grief of the moments we miss—and that grief is real. The holidays without them. The memories we thought we’d make together. The ache of custody weekends, shared time, or just life not going how we hoped it would.
But God—He is so gentle. So intentional. And sometimes, He lets us catch a moment that reminds us:
You’re still in this. You’re still showing up. And I’m still writing this story with you.
The resurrection wasn’t just a moment in history. It’s happening all around us—every time brokenness gives way to beauty. Every time a mama feels like she’s missing it all but is reminded, no, you’re right where you need to be.
So to the one who’s grieving the moments you didn’t get—can I remind you of this?
God sees your tears and your tooth fairy wins. He holds both your ache and your awe. And He knows exactly when to let you witness the magic.
With you in the mess,
Courtney
