Even Here, There Is Purpose: Finding Jesus in the Grief
Tomorrow is July 29th, my mom’s birthday.
It's been nearly four years since she passed on November 11, 2021, and still, this week wraps around me like a familiar ache. Not loud or chaotic, but quiet and steady, like a song I didn’t choose to play, but somehow know all the words to.
Grief has changed over time. It doesn’t crash down on me the way it used to in the early days, but it still arrives, soft and relentless. Especially this week.
My mom passed away when my oldest was just six months old. She never got to meet my youngest. That truth alone is enough to make me sit still and let the tears fall some days. I think about the laughter she would’ve shared with my babies. The stories. The songs. The grandma hugs. The way she would’ve called just to hear their babble or to remind me to rest. And then I think of everything she didn’t get to see in me, that I didn’t get to share with her.
There are days when grief sneaks up quietly and days when it shouts. This week, it whispers, steady and persistent. It reminds me of everything I’ve lost, but it also draws me closer to everything I’ve found. Most unexpectedly, that includes the very thing I now pour my heart into: The Church Girl Collective.
A Tidal Wave of Loss
The grief didn’t just come for my heart, it came for my identity.
Losing your mother just as you’re becoming one yourself is disorienting in a way that’s hard to explain. I was knee-deep in bottles and baby blankets, learning how to be a mother while mourning the one who mothered me. It felt like I was trying to build something sacred with my hands tied behind my back.
I didn’t know how to keep going some days. I’d put on worship music during nap time and cry quietly while folding baby clothes. I’d whisper prayers that felt more like gasps: “Jesus, help me.” “Jesus, I miss her.” “Jesus, are You here?”
And even when I didn't think so, He was.
When the Silence Wasn't Empty
In those early days, the silence of my grief could have swallowed me. It almost did. But instead, it became a place where I could finally hear God. Not audibly. Not always clearly. But deeply.
There’s something about grief that clears out the noise of everything that doesn’t matter. And in the rawness of my pain, I encountered a Jesus who wasn’t offended by my sadness. Who didn’t rush me to “get over it.” Who just stayed. A Man of Sorrows, familiar with grief, mine included.
He reminded me that even this—especially this—was something He could use. Not in a shallow, tie-a-bow-on-it way, but in a “I will make beauty from these ashes” kind of way. I started journaling and writing again. I started praying in new ways. I started asking hard questions, and actually letting God answer.
And somewhere in the midst of that mess, He brought me here. To The Church Girl Collective.
The Birth of The Church Girl Collective
What started as heartache eventually turned into something beautiful—The Church Girl Collective. A faith-based boutique, yes. But so much more than that. It became a reflection of my healing, my faith, and the hope I found when everything else fell apart.
I created this space for women like me, for the ones who love Jesus deeply, but who also carry silent battles. For the women walking through grief, heartbreak, and unanswered prayers. For the everyday church girls who want to live boldly in their faith, while being honest about the hard stuff.
The Church Girl Collective isn’t just about apparel or accessories, it’s about identity. It’s about declaring who we are in Christ, even when life doesn’t look the way we thought it would.
It’s about remembering that even our deepest valleys can lead us to purpose.
What My Mom Still Teaches Me
There’s so much I still want to say to my mom. I want to show her my kids. Tell her about this boutique. Tell her that her passing led me straight to Jesus, even when the alternative was trying to pull me under. Let her see how her strength and faith live on in me.
But even in her absence, she’s still teaching me. Her legacy didn’t die with her, it was passed down, and now I carry it forward.
She taught me how to fight for joy. How to hold on to Jesus when everything falls apart. How to show up, love hard, and give grace freely.
I carry her in the way I mother. I hear her voice in my prayers. And every time I send out a package from The Church Girl Collective, every time a customer tells me they feel seen or empowered or encouraged, I think, I hope she is so proud.
There Is Purpose in the Pain
If you’re reading this and you're grieving, whether it’s been four years or four days, please hear this: your pain is not wasted. God isn’t done with your story.
I know it’s hard to see purpose when you're sitting in the middle of sorrow. But I promise you, He is there. Even here. Even now.
The beauty of the gospel is that Jesus doesn’t just redeem our sins, He redeems our sadness too. He transforms loss into legacy. Pain into purpose. He builds something holy from what feels hopeless.
The Church Girl Collective was born from grief. But it’s also born from resurrection, from the truth that Jesus brings life out of death. Not just once, but again and again.
A Birthday Prayer for My Mom
So on July 29th, I’ll light a candle. I’ll look through old photos. I’ll tell my kids about the grandma they never got to meet, but whose love they carry anyway.
I’ll cry a little, laugh a little, maybe stop by In-n-Out Burger or Sees Candies in her honor. But mostly, I’ll thank God for her life, for her love, and for how even her passing led me closer to Him.
I’ll thank Him for this boutique, for this ministry, that’s become a place where grief, grace, and glory meet. A space where women are reminded that they are chosen, beloved, and never alone.
And I’ll keep pressing forward. Not because the pain is gone, but because the purpose is greater.
For Every Church Girl Walking Through Grief
To the woman reading this who’s holding it together with prayers and tears, this is for you.
You don’t have to rush your healing. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. Jesus sees you. He loves you. And He’s not wasting a single moment of your pain.
Let Him meet you there.
Let Him do what only He can do: bring beauty from ashes. Purpose from pain. Life from loss.
You are not broken beyond repair. You are being rebuilt, lovingly, intentionally, eternally, into something more radiant than you can imagine.
And if The Church Girl Collective has been part of your healing, know this: you’re part of mine, too.
With love and grace,
Kimberly
Founder of The Church Girl Collective
