Invite Jesus In...

Tara and I in a western Nebraska wheat field in the early 80's

Today marks 31 years since my beloved sister, Tara, entered eternal life.

It is hard to put words to the passage of time when it comes to grief. Thirty-one years is like a day, and a single day is like thirty-one years. Some moments feel like I was just laughing with her yesterday. Other moments stretch long and heavy, as though the ache has been stitched into every breath for decades.

Grief does this…it bends time in a mysterious way. It has taught me that love and longing do not fade, they get stronger. 

This morning, as I remembered that awful 4 AM phone call, the one Kevin answered all those years ago, tears came to my eyes.  He helped me process as he has for the last 31 years. He poured into me with a “new” thought, suggesting that instead of continuing to “give the grief over” to Jesus, as I have faithfully done for decades, I might invite Jesus into the grief itself. Into the tears. Into the ache.

That mindset shift soothed my heart. For years, I have prayed, cried, and handed over my sadness to the Lord, hoping He would carry it away. And, He has carried it, not completely away, but He has truly been there by my side all these years. But this year, through the graces of the Jubilee Year of Hope, I sense Him asking me to do something different through the words of my husband: to open the door of my grieving heart and invite Him in. To sit with me in the muck. To be present in the ache. To dwell with me in my sorrow. To restore my heart. To give me hope.

This grief has been a journey. It’s not something I will ever “get over” but something I continue to learn to walk in, carrying both sorrow and love side by side. Along the way, I have also leaned on the steadfast love of the Blessed Mother. Tara’s own devotion to the rosary has been a lasting gift to me, inspiring my faith and deepening my own personal relationship with Christ and His Mother. In her quiet, childlike way, Tara continues to lead me closer to Jesus through Mary.

Today, as I mark this anniversary, I reached for something tangible: a pair of Tara’s earrings. They are sunflower-shaped, with little rhinestones in the center that fell out long ago. And yet, after all this time, the little levers that hold them on are still strong and working.

I think grief can be like that. The pieces may shift and show wear, but the love, the bond that holds us, is still working and as strong as ever.

So, as I put on Tara’s earrings this morning, tears came again. And instead of pushing them away, I asked Jesus to sit with me in it. To hold space in the grief, to remind me that love is stronger than death, and that hope is always rising, especially in this Jubilee Year.

And so I carry both: the ache of the absence of my sister and friend, and the hope of reunion. Thirty-one years is like a day. And a day is like thirty-one years. All of it held in Christ and His Blessed Mother. 

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Our Lady of Sorrows

This month of September is always dedicated to Our Lady of Sorrows, to whom I have become very fond of. For the remainder of the month, I will be sharing thoughts and meditations on this devotion and on each of Our Blessed Mother's Seven Sorrows.

1. The prophecy of Simeon

2. The flight into Egypt

3. Loss of the Child Jesus for three days

4. Mary meets Jesus on His way to Calvary

5. Crucifixion and Death of Jesus

6. The body of Jesus being taken from the Cross

7. The burial of Jesus

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Your Sister in Christ,

Katie Donahue