Two weeks ago, I sat in a waiting room at a children’s hospital with my son and reality hit me. It would be our last visit there because he will be turning 18. After receiving services there for nearly 15 years, the chapter was coming to a close.

My son and I were caught in a flood of emotions as we began reminiscing. We remembered packing lunches for the long visits. We listed each professional we interacted with and how they had been wonderful to work with. We chuckled about how each appointment ended with a visit to the popcorn cart run by the kind volunteers.

I was stopped in my tracks, however, by a young family who came by and sat near us. I couldn’t help but notice the mom, who was wiping away tears, consoled by her husband, as her sweet littles played nearby.

Suddenly, I was transported back in time and I saw myself in the same chair. I remember feeling overwhelmed and my heart shattering into pieces. Receiving tough news was a challenging pill to swallow, especially when it was about my baby.

Yet, here I was with my fully grown son and I was joyful and filled with gratitude. I felt prompted to share my story with this mom. But the timing didn’t feel right. I told the Lord I wanted to be obedient and I prayed for the right opportunity.

Before I knew it, my son and I went in and out of the exam room, checked out, took pictures, and grabbed our last box of popcorn. As we were getting ready to walk out the doors for the final time, suddenly the mom and her family were in my view. I asked my son to wait as I walked over to her … a perfect stranger.

I greeted her and I told her how I noticed her in the waiting room. I shared how I had experienced a similar sadness years ago when my son was just her child’s age and how we had been on a long journey. Then, I pointed to my son and said, but look at him now. I shared how I just wanted to encourage her at the beginning of their journey and I wanted her to know that there is hope.