The morning my sister died, I was trapped inside a tunnel.
Literally.
Mere hours before my sister would take her last breath, I was in an MRI machine struggling to breathe.

I’d been suffering from migraines for quite a while, so the morning of November 6, 2021, I had an appointment to get an MRI done to rule out a few things. (Thankfully it came back clear.)

Over the years, I’ve become extremely claustrophobic, so my neurologist prescribed me 2 Valiums to take if needed to help me make it through the test. I took them both and was okay-ish- until they put me inside the machine. They gave me a little ball to squeeze in case I needed them. The moment they put me all the way in I squeezed it frantically and begged them to get me out. When they came back, I asked how long it would take, and if I recall correctly they said about 45 minutes, but if I moved it would take longer because they’d have to start over. [Remembering this now has my heart racing- claustrophobia is no joke.] They put me back inside, and I resolved myself to not move a muscle.

The scan started up and I began to panic knowing I couldn’t get out. I said a little prayer… I tried to focus on the lyrics to some worship songs I love… I tried deep breathing and telling myself I was safe and that this would be over soon- that I could do hard things. Nothing was working. Eventually, in almost full panic mode, I started saying in my head, over and over and over again, in sheer desperation… “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus”. I kept repeating it, over and over again, and I tried with all my might to turn my full attention on Him and not the buzzing sounds and tightness of the space I was in.

Soon after, this “picture” came to me [God often speaks to me through pictures in my mind]: I could envision Dylan in my position on the MRI table, terrified, and me sitting there beside him with my hand on his leg, reassuring him, “It’s okay, I’m right here… I’m right here. Just focus on me… I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere”. I’ll do anything in my power to comfort my children when they’re scared, and often times just knowing they’re not alone is enough. In that moment it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I kept saying, over and over to myself, “It has to be you, Jesus… it’s only you… It has to be you.” Nothing man made was working to calm me down- but focusing my attention on Him, calling out to the One who loves and cares for me most, settled me. I’d get to a point where I thought to myself “I’m okay, I got this”, and instantly I was hit with the awareness of how suffocating that tube was and how overwhelming the sounds around me were. So I’d turn my focus back to Him… “Jesus, Jesus… it has to be you Jesus.”

I left there with such a deep and fresh revelation of His kindness- that He cares so deeply for me- that if I call on Him He will answer.

Just a couple short hours later, my sister would be called Home.

As we sat next to her lifeless body in the hospital room, I was [needless to say] in shock. Devastated is almost an insulting word to use- I don’t have words for how painful that experience was. My mom sat next to her, crying, stroking her baby girl’s hair. My dad sat next to her, and through fits of tears, cried out to the Lord to have mercy on her soul. I sat at their feet, just sobbing. Somewhere in the middle of all that, in the middle of the hardest moment of my entire life, in the middle of feeling completely and utterly broken, the revelation I had had earlier that morning hit me again… “It has to be you, Jesus. It has to be you.”

Jesus knew when I woke up that morning that the trajectory of my life would be altered forever in just a few short hours. Just hours, minutes if you will, after my waking, my sister would leave this earth. He knew that. He knew I was going to feel completely defeated and lost after she left. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- I believe will all that I am that He didn’t take her Home to be mean to me, and He certainly didn’t call her Home to be mean to her. No- we may not know fully why she had to leave, but Nahum 1:7 and countless other verses in the Bible say that He is good; meanness is not His character. He knew I, Tiffany, me personally, needed to be reminded that only He is the source of all things good. He is my source of peace. He is my source of comfort. He is my source of joy that surpasses all understanding. He is the One who sustains me.
[I’m not implying for even a moment that earthly things are not good. Medications and therapy and other things can absolutely help, but I believe that He is the utmost highest source of goodness and help. I see those things as tools, and Him as the source.]

He knew I needed the deepest revelation possible of His closeness, so in His kindness, He used an MRI machine, mere hours before my sister’s death, to help remind me. He gave me the picture of me sitting next to Dylan on an MRI table, to remind me that that’s His stance with me… “It’s okay, I’m right here… I’m right here. Just focus on me… I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere”.

“For I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.”
Isaiah 41:13