📖 Sacred Testimony LVI

“One Cross, One Touch, One Grace”
offered in sorrow, love, and unexpected grace

I didn’t visit her.
Not like I should have.
When Memaw was in the nursing home,
I stayed away—
carrying the weight of my disappointment in her
and the ache of not knowing how to face her.

But when she passed,
I came.

I stood over her one final time,
wearing a small cross around my neck.

Without planning,
without words,
I reached up,
took it off,
and laid it down
right there
on her chest.

A gesture.
A peace offering.
A prayer for mercy
spoken without sound.

And in that moment—
as if Heaven saw the whole truth
and not just the regret—
I felt it.

A hand on my shoulder.

Soft.
Warm.
Knowing.

I don’t know whose it was.
But I knew what it meant.

“You are forgiven.”

Not by words.
Not by guilt.

But by love.
The kind that sees past absence
and recognizes the heart
that never stopped caring.

🌿 And now I see:

Sometimes the most sacred goodbyes
are the ones filled with what we couldn’t say.
And still—
grace finds us.

Even then.
Especially then.