The Holidays, Grief, and Why I Grow Herbs
The holidays are never the easiest season for me.
I’m a mom of six—four daughters and two sons—and this time of year is loud, busy, beautiful… and heavy. I try to hold space for all of it. The laughter around the table, the warmth of family, and the quiet moments when grief slips in without asking.
I lost my mom, who was also a mom of six. Just like me—four daughters and two sons. Becoming the age she once was, raising children the way she did, has a way of reopening old wounds while also revealing God’s grace in new ways. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)
I believe my passion for holistic living and healing began with her, even though she never had the chance to walk that path herself.
In 1999, my mom went in and out of the emergency room, repeatedly told she had a kidney infection and sent home with medication. A week later, on Christmas Eve, she was fighting for her life. She was resuscitated many times that night. A 5–6 inch ovarian tumor had ruptured, and in a moment, everything changed.
That night marked the beginning of the end.
We were blessed with almost two more years with her—years I thank God for often. She passed away on December 21, 2001, almost two years to the day after that Christmas Eve. “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” (Job 1:21)
Watching your mother suffer and slip away reshapes your understanding of life and health. It teaches you how fragile the body is, and how deeply we need care—physical, emotional, and spiritual. I often wonder how things might have been different if she had known what I know now. Not as a promise or guarantee, but as support—gentle tools to strengthen the body God designed and to nurture it with intention.
That wondering became the seed God planted in my heart.
Today, I grow my own herbs. I make tinctures with prayerful hands. I study the plants the Lord placed on this earth and teach my children to respect and listen to their bodies. “The Lord God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground—trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food.” (Genesis 2:9) I believe He also gave us herbs as gifts—to be used wisely, humbly, and with gratitude.
This work is deeply personal. It is rooted in grief, faith, and the belief that caring for our bodies is a form of stewardship. “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit?” (1 Corinthians 6:19)
The holidays still bring tears, but they also remind me why I do what I do.
I do it for my children.
I do it in honor of my mother.
I do it because tending the earth and caring for the body feels like worship.
If you’re grieving this season, know that you are not alone. If joy feels complicated, God understands. “There is a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.” (Ecclesiastes 3:4)
This season, I hold sorrow and gratitude together. I trust that God can redeem even the hardest stories. And I thank Him for the lessons my mother gave me—some in life, and some in loss.
