Letters Between Sundays

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  • Letter to Heaven

    Dear Heaven,

    Is she up there? Is she at peace? Lord, I know you don’t have to tell me, but I wish you would. I wish you could tell me why you took my nana away from me—why you took my best friend. Lord, maybe you took her not to hurt me but to get her out of pain. Maybe you took her because you knew I could never put you first if she was here.

    Every day I am reminded that I don’t have grandparents. Every day I’m reminded that my support system is only my mom. Every day I’m reminded of the pain, of the disappointment from my mom when leaving for college. I’m reminded of the fact I picked being bulimic over seeing Nana in the hospital. I would do it differently if I had another chance.

    Nana, I hope you’re reading this. I hope that when you got to the gates, God saw how much you did love Him. I know we called ourselves Christians, but we weren’t disciples of God. I know you got baptized, but I don’t know if that was enough, Nana. You will never be forgotten. I don’t go a day without thinking of you. You were my second mom, you took care of me and loved me. You made me stronger, you taught me morals and values and how to be a woman. You put in all this work, Nana, and you didn’t even get to see the end result of me being an adult.

    Before you died, you saw me dying with you. Being 89 pounds in the hospital, not eating, throwing up, and having no life in my body. Nana, that’s not who I am.

    My friend moved into her new apartment—yesterday her grandma came to visit. I was happy that she had a grandma to call. I can’t do that. When moving into college, grandparents came and helped move their grandchildren in—you couldn’t do that. My friend called her grandma for her birthday last month. Hearing her grandma’s voice reminded me of you. Reminded me that I haven’t heard your voice in three years. Reminded me that I can’t pick up my phone and call you.

    Every time I bake, I think of you, Nana. You were baking with me since I was little. Donuts, cupcakes, cakes, pastries—you did it all with me. Nana, I have an online bakery because of you. We were supposed to open it up together, but now I’m opening it up in memory of you. I hope you can see what I’m doing, Nana. I hope you’re proud of me.

    You died on freshman year move-in. You told me to go even if something happened to you. I wish I didn’t go. I wish I stayed in the hospital with you and never crawled out of your hospital bed. I wish the doctors found out what was wrong and fixed it. You would be here watching me, helping me, and turning me into a young adult. Nana, you were my best friend. You were everything.

    Remember us playing cards? We would play Rummy and Thirteen. Every time you went to the bathroom you would yell, “Don’t cheat, Paris,” and I would have to reshuffle because I cheated. When you got sick, we stopped playing. Remember our tea parties? I loved that you did these. Mom is still doing them.

    I will never stop going to the tea parties. I still wear your jewelry, your perfume. I have your clothes and hope they still smell like you. Nana, I’m just like you. I scrapbook, cook, bake, I’ve been using your sewing machine. You got everything ready and then left before you could even use it. Everything reminds me of you. Some days I can’t even do it anymore.

    Nana, I think about what you have missed being gone for three years. I would want to think you would be proud of me. I’m in my senior year of college and I’m about to graduate. With what degree? I don’t know, but I’m graduating. I gave my life to Christ. I have a loving community and a family that loves me. I would want to think that you would’ve come to church with me every Sunday.

    I’m writing a book—it’s about my stalker, and I think that would’ve given you a heart attack. I bake every week. Yesterday I baked donuts for the first time, and every step, every measuring, I thought of you. I have a job, I have a lot of friends, and I help Mom out with Abijoy. You should see her, Nana—she’s so smart. No husband or kids yet, but I wish I would’ve had kids in my teens so you could meet my children. They would’ve loved you.

    My sadness turns into anger, and I don’t know how to hold onto this anymore. It feels like I’m in a dream and every day it replays in my head. Sometimes I wish we didn’t joke about your death. Three months before you died, Nana, I knew what was coming. I sensed it. I don’t know what it was, but I would cry to Mom that you were dying. I made a joke saying, “Don’t kick the bucket until I graduate.” Sometimes I wish I would’ve said college graduation.

    I’m very lucky that I had you. I need to be grateful for the time I did get with you. I think Mom blames me for your death. She makes these comments that just stab me. I don’t blame her. She’s your daughter, and she lost her momma. She left you in the hospital to die, so she could move me into college. I took her from you. I’m very sorry about that.

    Nana, I miss making your tea for you. I miss going camping and kayaking with you. I miss going to Flavor Farm and pumpkin picking. I miss your voice and you holding me. You knew everything, and you were prepared for everything. I don’t think you were prepared for this. No one was. You were the glue to this family, and when you left things fell apart… for the better, I think.

    Nana, I’m twenty-one years old and I dress like you. I find myself wearing gym shoes that match my socks and your earrings. I’ll have on a baseball cap and shorts and a t-shirt that match the socks. We have a song down here for you, Nana—it’s called “Supermarket Flowers.” You liked Ed Sheeran. He’s singing about his grandma. This song hits home.

    Nana, every time I listen to Bruno Mars I cry. You wanted to go see him in concert. You thought he was cute. You would giggle and blush a little when talking about him.

    We took our first family trip without you, Nana. We went to the Outer Banks. You would’ve loved it. I wish you could’ve gotten to go. You loved the ocean. I sprinkled some of your ashes in the ocean before we left. It’s hard to do new things without you.

    When cleaning out your house, everything smelled like you. You had presents ready for birthdays and Christmas. You were ready to go. Taking back the jewelry that I gave to you was hard. Taking back everything I gave you was hard. When you left, I would text you every day, telling you what happened and how I was feeling. I don’t know why I stopped. I think for a little bit I was distracted with my feelings.

    I go back and re-read our conversations and the abbreviations you would use. FF = fat fingers—you would text this when you misspelled something. I wish you could answer me back. When you left, your phone was still activated. To help with coping, Mom and I texted people from your phone. We thought it was funny. They did not.

    Looking at pictures is hard and comforting at the same time. You’re on my walls at college, Nana. My roommate sophomore year had a problem with the little section I gave you in my dorm. She called it a “shrine.” I don’t think it was. It had pictures of us, candles, letters for you, a feather, and hummingbirds. No one understands how hard this was for me.

    You advocated for me. You made me feel seen and heard when I didn’t get along with Mom. You didn’t take it easy on me, and I was grateful for that. It made me strong, taught me how to work, and how to keep moving forward. When getting ready for college, Mom came across a notebook that you were going to give me. It was “College Survival 101.” You put gift cards in it and wrote advice in the book. You didn’t get to finish it, but the first rule you put in there was to have the buddy system.

    When writing this letter, I couldn’t get through a paragraph without crying.

    Nana, every day I hope I can make you proud. I will never forget you, Nana. I love you.

    “You were an angel in the shape of my mom.”

    Sincerely,
    Your Favorite

  • ¨ Nobody puts baby in a corner.¨

    As a twenty-one-year-old in college, what do you think I should be doing on a Saturday night? Going to football games or campus parties? Playing beer pong at a frat house during the day, better known as “darties”? College is supposed to be about “fun,” and by that, the world means drinking, drugs, and “finding who you are.” You’re 18 and free—what do you have to lose?

    “Walk with the wise and become wise; associate with fools and get in trouble.” – Proverbs 13:20

    When you get to college, you feel pressure to try everything you’ve never done before. Staying out all night. Hooking up. Sneaking into bars with a fake ID. Experimenting with that one drug. That’s the “normal” way—if you’ve never opened a Bible.

    “My child, fear the Lord and the king. Don’t associate with rebels.” – Proverbs 24:21

    I’m thankful my story looks different. My party days ended in high school, and the best thing I’ve gained in college is giving my life to the Lord. He’s shown me the world can’t satisfy me. The world lies, but Jesus tells the truth. Yes, college is about finding out who you are—but it’s even more about finding out who Jesus is. Once you know Him, you want to leave behind the old ways. You want to deny your flesh, because He died for you.

    I’m in my last year of college, and I’ve never been to a college party. Instead, I’ve been to devotionals, church events, girls’ nights, bonfires, retreats, dinner parties, and game nights in church basements. No drugs, no alcohol—and I can honestly say those are the funniest, most joy-filled memories I’ve ever made. I was with people who cared for me, who wanted to see me grow. My brother says, “If there’s no drugs or alcohol, you won’t have fun.” Maybe that’s true in the world’s eyes, but in God’s kingdom, He shows you what real fun looks like.

    The Lord is not boring. He made mountains to climb, oceans to swim in, snow to play in, and sunsets to capture. He gave us animals to love, music to dance to, and friends to laugh with until our stomachs hurt. Reading the Bible isn’t boring. Praying isn’t boring. Talking about the Lord isn’t boring.

    What’s boring? Doing the same thing as everyone else—falling into the rabbit hole of what the world says life “should” be. That’s boring.

    So tonight, my new roommate and I are watching love movies. We danced in the living room with Patrick Swayze. We laughed so hard we fell to the floor. It’s a Saturday night and we aren’t drinking, we aren’t at a party, and we are certainly not following the world. I am a child of God, and I’m proud to be one.

    I wouldn’t trade this Saturday night for anything.

    “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.”

  • Parking Lot

    Why did you pick me for your victim?

    Why did you fill my head with cement?

    What did I do, for you to erase who I was?

    I thought we were friends. I thought we were best friends.

    We shared lists of baby names and showed each other our scars.

    We pretended we didn’t notice each others’ eating disorders.

    You turned me into a fool, with your con artist words.

    You are slick with your words like the snake was with Eve.

    I drank your poisoned words and looked at myself the way you see me.

    But when all your masks shatter,
    will you face the monster you are,
    or just search for someone else to bleed?

    You took my trust and wore it like a crown,
    but when the mirror finally breaks,
    will you see me in the pieces—
    or only your reflection?

    You turned me into your prey,
    but predators always stay hungry.
    Who will you poison next?

  • Words to Describe who I am

    Droplets of rain water trickling down your car window,

    Earrings that my mom use to wear when she thought she was pretty,

    Punching bag for everyone who feels hurt,

    Raspberries remind me how innocent this world use to be,

    Endless love for my stuff animal, bunny,

    Sunsets that everyone takes a picture of,

    Sewing machines clumped up with fabric,

    Independent little girl, grabbing a candy bar at the gas station,

    Ocean waves to surf on,

    Needle in a haystack.

    the end.

  • Fatherless, but still a daughter

    Because even without an earthly dad, I am never without a Father

    “The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who fear him.” – Psalms 103:13

    A part of me struggles to find security in knowing that God is my Father. He might not be here physically, but He gave us the Holy Spirit, who is with us all the time.

    Growing up fatherless brought on a lot of issues as a young girl. I was always seeking male validation. It started with my older cousin—he took me under his wing. When I was little, he ended up going to juvie. It broke my heart to the point of me having mental breakdowns every day because of it. Why? Because he taught me what comfort was, what love is, and he took care of me.

    Getting into my teen years, I started looking for male validation in teachers. I would act out to the point of getting suspended, hoping for a lecture from the teacher. There were times in high school when I would purposely get caught with drugs so the principal (who was a male) would talk to me and seem disappointed in me. Why would I do this? Because I wanted a male figure to care about my life—someone who was sincere and emotionally there for me. I would spend half my high school years with the principal. I felt love from him.

    I did this with guys growing up as well. My first boyfriend was when I was 13. He gave me the wrong kind of attention, took advantage of me, and was abusing me. I honestly didn’t know what was going on, all I knew was that I had a male figure who “loved” me. By the age of 18, I had gone 5 years without a boyfriend or a guy in my life. If you’re a girl who struggles with “daddy issues,” you understand that you would do anything for male attention. I mean anything. Your insecurity of not feeling loved starts to take over. You start to flirt and play mind games with the football coach. You see what you can get away with by using your body. You start to understand their weaknesses and manipulate them into emotionally validating you. You get so good at it that you can get anyone wrapped around your finger.

    Coming into the church with these motives was very difficult. Do you want to take a guess on how I came into the church? You guessed it—it was a guy. God knew my weakness. He knew in order to get my attention, He had to use a guy. I wish this wasn’t my weakness. I’ve been told that I can feel nothing, or I can feel everything. This is true—I’m extreme, and it’s not really a good thing. My emotions are so up and down that even I get confused.

    There are a lot of men in the church that I look up to. I appreciate them so much that it actually hurts my heart. Sometimes I think too much about it and start to pull away because I’m not their actual daughter. Being close with families makes me think about what I’ve been missing out on—how I never had a father care for me or read me bedtime stories. Sometimes I envy the fathers’ relationships with their daughters. Sometimes when talking to these fathers, I go back to my old ways of flirting and manipulating. I catch myself before it gets too far—sometimes I do it without even noticing, and I have to repent. My struggles with being fatherless don’t just impact my relationships with the fathers in the church. They impact the brothers as well.

    When doing my Bible studies, I’ve had to learn how not to flirt with the brothers in the church. Learning how to do this was very difficult in the moment. I wasn’t really close with the sisters, and I loved the attention that I was getting from the brothers. I felt loved, safe, protected, and seen. In the beginning, that wasn’t enough. I found their weaknesses and played on them. After a while, I felt empty and alone. Satan got to me and made me feel disgusting and worthless. I had to do a lot of soul searching to find out that the one true person to give me love like a father is God.

    God knows me inside and out. He knew what I was going to struggle with and when I would need Him the most—but I never came to Him. I sought out the brothers and found my security in them. That didn’t last long, because it’s not their job to make me feel that way.

    I struggled with knowing that God loved me for who I was and that He wasn’t going to leave like all the other father figures did in my life. I had to trust that He truly, deeply loved me. He literally died on the cross for me. He took my sins away and made me free. He knows what I need and gives it to me. He goes before me to protect me. He has His angels surrounding me. He truly loves me, and nothing can compare to that love. Instead of running to a boyfriend or confiding in a brother, I need to run to Jesus. I need to talk and express everything to God. He will always listen and care for me.

    I’m reading a book at the moment called Secure in Heart. It’s about how you need to be secure in God’s love. The chapter I’m on is called Will I Be Alone? We need to trust God to be our comforter. It’s funny, because all the chapters I’ve read so far have connected to what I was struggling with in that moment. Right now it’s the thought of being alone. This chapter has taught me that I do not need a boyfriend, for God knows the desires of my heart, and I have to trust that He will provide in His timing. If you are struggling with letting God be your comforter and are trying to overcome insecurity in your life, I recommend this book.

    Tonight, God has blessed me with a family. We had a little devotional and played games. This included male role models. I look up to our college ministers. Their marriage has taught me what relationships are actually about. When I feel loved by one of the brothers, I get really emotional (I don’t do that often). I feel God’s love through them. I don’t flirt, I don’t manipulate—I just be myself. I’m fun, playful, aggressive, big-hearted, loving, and thoughtful. Tonight had its strengths and weaknesses. I found myself surrounded by the brothers rather than the sisters. I don’t think this is bad, but I also know how this could go. And I’ve been saying that I’ve felt left out from the sisters, which isn’t all on them. Sometimes I do it to myself by trying to find security in the brothers. Tonight there was Wii bowling, height differences, push-up contests, and Juicy Fruit gum. Yes, it was hard for me not to go back to my old ways, but each day God gives me the opportunity to grow—to be a daughter of the Lord.

    I will always have a Father. I wouldn’t want to change it for anything else.
    I love you, Lord.

  • The First Monday

    “The Lord says, I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you.” – Psalms 32:8

    I wasn’t expecting a 9:30 a.m. ballet class my senior year of college. I wasn’t expecting a roommate who was a stranger. I wasn’t expecting to have free time. I wasn’t expecting to have a season of happiness.

    What I was expecting was 8:00 a.m. nursing classes, a full schedule of clinicals and labs, and no time to breathe—let alone time for God.

    During the summer I was placed on the waitlist for the nursing program. To give you some backstory, my mother is an R.N. and I wanted to be like her when I was little. She was someone to look up to. There were times she would take me to work with her (she worked in home health care), and I would play with the kids and watch my mom be a superhero.

    Fast forward to sophomore year of college. I was supposed to be applying for the nursing program, but instead I was crying into my mother’s arms because I had “failed” organic chemistry. If you are a nurse, or if you’ve taken Orgo before, you know how hard it is. I thought my life was over, that I was off track and wouldn’t graduate on time. At that point in my life, I hadn’t given my life to Christ yet, so I felt like I had no one to lean on, no one to trust, and no one to help.

    Junior year, first semester, I took organic chemistry again… and failed again. I wasn’t as distraught because I had another semester to try. By then, I had a toxic friend in my life who was the root of so much of my struggle, but I had also given my life to Christ on June 6, 2024. I wrestled with the thought of nursing not being the path for me. I kept telling myself, “I’m helping people—why would God not want that?” Still, I pressed on.

    Finally, I passed with a 77%. That night I cried, relieved, and applied for the program. I felt confident I would get in. Why wouldn’t I?

    When I received the email saying I didn’t get in and had been placed on the waitlist, I thought my life was over… again. I sobbed and blamed God. I told Him He was wrong, that He had made a mistake. After pouring out my anger, I broke down, wept, and repented for everything I had said.

    Psalms 32:8 is my favorite verse. I struggle with letting go of my future, telling myself that life is a race and that falling behind makes me a failure. But what I didn’t know at the time is that God doesn’t see me as a failure. He doesn’t look at me with disappointment because I didn’t get in. He sees a daughter with passion, drive, and perseverance. He sees a daughter who needs to trust Him—not a program, not a diploma, not my mom, and definitely not myself.

    So here I am, graduating with a bachelor’s in Health Science, Communication, and Business. I’m taking a ballet class at 9:30 in the morning and several online business courses. I have my blog, bakery, podcast, book, and YouTube channel. But none of that really matters, because at any moment God can take it away—and that’s okay.

    Because the only thing I need is Jesus.

    I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I know Who holds tomorrow. And that is enough.

    Sincerely,
    Letters Between Sundays