This is a story that has to be told. It is a story of radical faith, of community, of tragedy, and of living in the Lord’s grace.
A few Sundays ago, I received a phone call that shook me to my core. A dear friend of ours, a mother, a wife, and an avid supporter of what we are doing here on the ranch, had suffered an unimaginable tragedy. On Saturday night, her 17-month-old daughter was accidentally run over.
I was in the parking lot of H-E-B when I got the call. I wept. I wept for them, and I wept for the man who accidentally ran over the little girl. There were so many “would haves” and “could haves” and “should haves” that people might think of in a moment like that, but none of that could change what had happened.
What has stayed with me is not the tragedy itself but the way this family has chosen to walk through it. Their clarity, their faith, and their intention in grief are a story worth telling.
When they received the news in the hospital, the father held his wife and said, “How good is our Lord.” To choose worship in the moment of unimaginable loss is one of the most powerful acts of faith I have ever heard of.
Later that same day, the mother and grieving father texted the man who had been driving the work truck that struck the child. Their message was simple: “We love you. We do not want this to come between us.”
The following morning, that man came to the house to face the parents of the little girl. He was carrying a weight that no one should ever have to bear. He wanted to fall to his knees, but the father held him up, kissed him on the side of his head, and said, “I love you.” The mother hugged him deeply and said, “I forgive you.”
That kind of forgiveness is beyond human strength. It is divine.
On Monday night, after going to Costco to bring groceries to the family, I had the privilege of sitting with this mother. She was in the early stages of labor, grieving her fourth child while preparing to give birth to her fifth.
This young woman, who has carried five children in just a few years, has built her life—quite literally—on the word of God. Her father-in-law’s Bible is buried in the foundation of the home they built with their own hands to house their family.
She sat with the kind of wisdom and clarity that usually comes only with age. She shared how she parents with open hands, knowing that her children always belong to the Lord, and how she hopes to continue this way.
Breathing between contractions, asking her body and the Lord to let her relax enough to allow this fifth child to come out, she told me that she had come to a fork in the road. She could spend her life replaying the moments and the “what ifs” or she could trust that this child was meant to be with the Lord. She could let the pain consume her or she could choose to love and be present for her husband and children, who are still here.
And she was clear: “I will be a joyful wife. I will be a joyful mother. I will not let this destroy me. If the Lord blesses me with more children, I will receive them. I will move forward in love.”
She said something I will never forget: “We all know someone who carries tragedy in their face. When you see them, you remember what happened, and that sadness lingers around them. I will not be that woman. I will choose life every day.”
She said goodbye to her 17-month-old daughter on a Saturday night and gave birth on the following Wednesday night, surrounded by women who love her and her adoring husband. Out of the same heart that broke open in grief came new life, a living testament to the Lord’s sustaining grace.
In the days that followed, their home became a reflection of everything they had poured into the community. People came to minister to them, but in truth, this couple ministered to everyone who walked through their door. The house was alive with love. Women washed dishes, mopped floors, and prepared meals. Men fixed the unfinished parts of the house that needed to be done before the baby arrived. Couples slept on the floor to serve and support them.
Everyone who came to help left with more peace than they arrived with. Being in the presence of such grace changes you.
This family has always lived in the community. They welcome women to their home births and have created a space in which others can witness the beauty and reality of life beginning. In the same way, they invited the community into their grief.
The mother told everyone: “I do not want to see you out in the world and have you be afraid to speak to me. Come be with me. Grieve with me. Know my pain so that you are not uncomfortable with it.”
At the funeral, she stood before the congregation with courage that took everyone’s breath away. She asked people to not avoid her or shy away from speaking her daughter’s name.
“It is all right to ask how I am doing,“ she said. ”It is all right to talk about her. Do not let your discomfort keep you from love.”
The man who had been driving that night also stood up and spoke. Through deep sadness, he shared how he had been lifted up by the very people who had every reason to push him away. He spoke of their forgiveness and of the peace it brought to his own tormented heart.
This was not a funeral of fanfare or polished ceremony. There were no celebrities or grand speeches. It was a church overflowing with community: people pouring out their hearts to each other, bound together in love and faith.
In that space, grief became sacred. Forgiveness became worship. And faith became flesh among us.
In reflecting on my own family, I have thought about how many times something like this could have happened to us, with work trucks, tractors, and guests coming and going on the ranch. It makes me want to hold my children tighter, but that is not the lesson.
The lesson is that our children do not belong to us. They are the Lord’s. We are not meant to hold them tighter but to love them and be present with them every day because we do not know how long we have or how long they have.
Each of us has an opportunity to be the best cell in the body, to bring healing instead of division, and to live as a reflection of God’s mercy in this broken world.
This family, nestled in the Texas Hill Country, is a shining example of what it looks like to live with radical faith, unconditional love, and the unshakable grace that can only come from the Lord.
