Today, something happened that cracked my heart wide open in the most unexpected, beautiful way.

I got a text from someone in my mom’s old neighborhood, asking if he could drop off a time capsule my mom buried twenty-five years ago. I didn’t even remember it existed.

I was heading to get my lashes done - so I tucked the package away, knowing I couldn’t afford to cry yet. But when I got back to my car and finally opened it… oh my God.

Inside were photos of my childhood. My grandparents. My brothers. My children when they were little. My mother’s missionary tag - the place she was probably happiest in her whole life. Poems from my grandfather, sweet and funny. Words from my grandmother. And letters - one addressed “To my dear children… twenty-five years from now…”

I haven’t read that letter yet. I will. I need to be in the right space for it. But even just seeing those words in her handwriting… I lost it.

She’s been so present with me this past week, and now I know why. She was waiting for this delivery of love. Waiting to remind me: I’m still here. I still love you. We still belong to each other.

Even though my mom and I are in very different places now - me here, her in heaven… me walking a spiritual path that looks nothing like the faith she loved - we are still woven together in something deeper than belief. We’re soul-tied in a way that no difference could ever undo.

I know why she wrote what she did. In that letter she says the most important thing she wanted to share is that “the gospel of Jesus Christ is everything to me.” And it made me weep - not because I share the same doctrine, but because I know how much it mattered to her. She lived it. She loved through it. She was more Christlike than almost anyone I’ve ever met. And I love that about her.

She was imperfect, and so was I. Our relationship was messy and beautiful and real. And today, holding her words in my hands, I remembered: she gave me life. And now, through this letter, she’s giving me something even more eternal.

Love. Legacy. The reminder that even now - we’re still in it together.

I love you Mom.

Love,
Mama Tiff