Mom's childhood was marked by both joy and deep pain from her parents' divorce. Her father's broken promises, like the day she waited endlessly for him on the sidewalk, left lasting wounds of unworthiness and loneliness that followed her throughout life.

Despite her struggles with depression, she created a welcoming home filled with visitors and never missed my basketball games. Her dark clouds often led to days in bed or late nights drowning sorrows in TV and drink. Our family navigated complex mental health challenges, including a brief stay in a mental institution, yet she fought hard to maintain normalcy.

After my conversion in 1999, Mom's faith journey began. Though not immediate, her transformation was genuine. She questioned her worthiness but never forsook the Lord. At Lakeside Baptist Church, she developed a deeper love for Scripture that would prove crucial when diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer.

During her final seven months, our family drew closer. The church community showed extraordinary love, even setting up her new home exactly like her old one. She immersed herself in Bible studies, often listening to teachings online. Three weeks before passing, she expressed regret about wasted time, but I assured her that finishing well matters most.

Near the end, surrounded by family, we sang hymns as her breathing slowed. Reading from Pilgrim's Progress as she passed, I felt both grief and joy – grief at losing her, but joy knowing she was finally free from the Giant of Despair and Doubting Castle.

Though an imperfect saint, she finished well. Jesus held her fast through all her struggles, just as He promised.

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