Honoring My Mother

July 1, 2025

These last few days, my family and I experienced something sacred—something I will carry in my heart for the rest of my life. We said goodbye to my mother, and in doing so, we witnessed the incredible power of love, community, and faith.

So many people came together to honor her life. Whether they came to take one last look at my mom or simply to be present with us, each person was intentional. That alone meant so much. I saw old friends I hadn’t seen in years—some I used to kick it with growing up—and it was as if no time had passed. We caught up, not just on life, but on what God has been doing in our hearts.

I also met family I didn’t even know I had. In the Hmong culture, a great-aunt is also called “grandma,” and I was introduced as so for the first time! I met nieces and nephews I never knew existed. It reminded me of how deeply our culture values family—as a village, as one unit. In a time of loss, that sense of belonging was a comfort I didn’t know I needed.

On Monday, we laid her body to rest at Roselawn Cemetery in St. Paul. That moment felt surreal. It was my turn to bury my mother. As I stood there, I felt the weight of life and death all at once. Her body rests now in the ground, and it will remain there until the day Christ returns, when all will be made new. That hope is what carries me.

There’s something sobering about the journey we all must take. Each one of us begins in the womb of a mother and eventually walks into death—alone. No one escapes it. We all must make peace with the journey between birth and eternity, between love and loss, joy and sorrow. It’s not easy, but it’s holy.

On Saturday, my mother’s church family showed up in love. They came and cooked us fresh, hot meals and kept the snack trays full. Their presence brought both nourishment and comfort. The Alliance Women and Men dedicated songs to my mom and to our family, filling the room with voices of peace and strength. We were especially blessed by our dear cousin Koungla Kong, who honored us with a song that soothed our aching hearts.

Then, tonight, the pastors and church elders gathered with us at Nhia’s house. They came not just to share a meal, but to pour into us—praying, singing, encouraging, and uplifting us with the Word. Afterward, something beautiful happened: my family had our first nearly complete family meeting. We were just missing my brother John and his wife, but even still, it felt full. Mom was there with us in spirit. Her love still lingers. Her faith planted the seeds. And tonight, we began something new because of her.

I’m grateful to have siblings who love one another. We each have our own path to walk, but my prayer is that we will empower each other to become who God created us to be. That night wasn’t just a family gathering—it was the fruit of so many prayers. To all of you who have been lifting us up, thank you. God heard, and He moved. We felt it. And all glory belongs to Christ. Forever and ever. Amen.

Tomorrow, we take another step—our very first family camping trip. A new experience without mom physically here, but still surrounded by her love. I pray that this time together will strengthen our faith, deepen our love, and help us mature in the Spirit. May we continue to recognize God’s hand in each other—and in ourselves.

When love shows up, so does God. And in our time of loss, He has never felt closer.

Glory to God in the highest. Amen.