As I sat by my grandmother’s bedside in the quiet of her assisted living room, surrounded by the remnants of a life well-lived, I gently opened the worn pages of “Jesus Calling.” The familiar words of the daily devotional brought comfort and a sense of connection to the divine presence she had always cherished.

My grandmother, a woman of unwavering faith who had spent her days in service to the Lord, had been my rock through the highs and lows of my life. But now, as dementia clouded her once-sharp mind and the ravages of age took their toll, I found myself in the role of caregiver, visiting her daily to read the words that brought her solace.

Each day, as I fed her and read the devotional aloud, a flicker of recognition would light up her eyes, and a serene smile would grace her lips. It was in those moments that I felt closest to her, as if our souls were intertwined in a sacred bond that transcended time and space.

But when the doctors delivered the devastating news of her declining health and impending passing, my heart shattered into a million pieces. The thought of saying goodbye to the one person who had always loved me unconditionally was unbearable.

As we gathered around her in those final moments, my family granted me a precious gift — a moment alone with her. With tears streaming down my face, I poured out my heart to her, whispering my gratitude for her love and guidance, and promising to carry on her legacy of faith and love.

In that sacred space between life and death, I made a solemn vow to her — a vow of sobriety and redemption. For years, I had struggled with addiction, hiding my pain and shame from the one person who had always seen the best in me. But as I held her frail hand in mine, I confessed my newfound strength and resolve to live a life she would be proud of.

With a final prayer on my lips, I kissed her forehead and whispered my final goodbye. Through my tears, I could almost see her spirit soaring towards the heavens, released from the confines of her earthly body to dwell in eternal peace.

And as I grieved her passing, I knew that her love and faith would always be with me, a guiding light in the darkness, reminding me of the grace and mercy that awaited us all in our eternal home.

As I clutched the devotional in my trembling hands, I flipped to the page marked with today’s date, March 10th. The words seemed to leap off the page, their significance resonating deep within me. It was as if the universe was speaking through the pages of “Jesus Calling,” reaffirming what my heart already knew — that my beloved grandmother’s journey on this earth was coming to an end, and soon she would find eternal rest in the arms of her Savior.

With a heavy heart and tear-streaked face, I made my way out of her room, the weight of impending loss pressing down on me like a leaden shroud. I found my mother and her sister in the hallway, and without a word, I showed them the devotional page for the day.

As they read the words that had brought comfort and solace to our grandmother in her final days, a sense of peace settled over us, like a balm for our wounded hearts. We knew then, without a doubt, that today was the day she would leave us to join the heavenly choir, her spirit finally free from the confines of her earthly body.

Gathering our strength and resolve, we returned to her bedside one last time, surrounding her with love and prayers as the final moments drew near. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting its golden rays upon her peaceful face, she took her last breath, slipping quietly into the waiting embrace of her Lord and Savior.

In that sacred moment of transition, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me, knowing that she was no longer bound by pain or suffering, but soaring on wings of light towards a place of eternal joy and love. And as we bid her farewell, I whispered a prayer of gratitude for her life, her love, and the profound impact she had made on all who knew her.

As we stood together in the fading light of that March evening, I knew that although her physical presence was gone, her spirit would forever dwell in our hearts, a beacon of hope and faith guiding us through the dark nights ahead. And as I clutched the devotional close to my chest, I felt her presence whispers of love and grace surrounding me, a reminder that she was now at peace in her eternal home.

Jesus Calling: March 10.

You are Mine for all time- and beyond time, into eternity. No power can deny you your inheritance in heaven. I want you to realize how utterly secure you are! Even if you falter as you journey through life, I will never let go of your hand.

Knowing that your future is absolutely assured can free your to live abundantly today. I have prepared this day for you with the most tender concern and attention to detail. Instead of approaching the day as a blank page that you need to fill up, try living it in a responsive mode: being on the lookout for all that I am doing. This sounds easy, but it requires a deep level of trust, based on the knowledge that My way is perfect.