I’ve sat in tears most mornings this week, thinking of my sweet friend, Marisa Bryant. When I met her, she told me she had yet to find a church that would include, welcome, and challenge her as a single, middle-aged woman. I took it as a personal challenge and asked God to give her an extra special place and extra special chosen family.

Not only did God answer my prayer for her, but he blessed her immeasurably with brothers and sisters in Christ. Marisa’s blood family is very small and far away, so having people who love and act like family is a huge blessing. My heart grew as I watched her outer shell break and she let people see the real her. Hugs and I love yous abounded every time we saw her. In Sunday school, her dry wit kept us all laughing. Her friendship blessed so many of us.

When Marisa was diagnosed last summer with brain cancer, my heart ached. She’d only been retired a short time and there were so many goals she wanted to accomplish. I’ve watched her endure surgeries, treatments, and medicines like a champ. I’ve watched her lose her hair and slowly lose her cognitive abilities. I’ve watched her raise her hands in worship while wearing her radiation nodes under her cute cancer caps. I’ve heard her pray to the Father, praise him, and thank him in the midst of this excruciating trial. And I’ve watched God surround her with people who love and care for her exactly when she needs them. Her chosen family.

Marisa had a massive stroke last week and her body slowly betrayed her. As she took her last breath here, she opened her eyes to her new heavenly home. No more cancer. No more weakness. No more brokenness or tears. We are the ones mourning, not her.

The revolving door of church family, neighbors, and friends has truly been overwhelming. Her cousin, Malcolm and sister, Stella, have been with her around the clock offering amazing care. So many others, her chosen family, have stepped in to take shifts daily too. God truly surrounded Marisa with people who love her deeply and sacrificially.

I’ve wrestled with the whys. With God’s timing. And I may never know any answers. But I am certain of this: Marisa’s heart belongs to Christ. She settled that many years ago and never stopped clinging to his promise of heaven.

Marisa, we will all miss you terribly. But it’s not goodbye, just see you later. You just got there a little bit faster than the rest of us. Until then.