Regina Robuck

For a long time, the silence was the heaviest part.and for years, I carried a quiet, fracturing weight inside me. It started on April 25, 2012, the day the world shifted on its axis. I was away at a conference in Las Vegas, completely unaware that back home, my mother was slipping away. I stayed with her in the hospital for a week and when I left for my conference, she looked amazing and was heading home. But a week to the day, she left the hospital, she died. It felt like an impossible betrayal. How could God take my best friend? How could He leave me, an only child, to navigate the cruel, slow goodbye of my father’s Alzheimer’s all on my own? I used to think about that famous quote from Mother Teresa: "I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish He didn't trust me so much." That was my reality. For a long time, I didn't even have the energy to be angry. I just felt abandoned. It took me years to finally crack open, to finally scream at the sky. A favorite pastor of mine once told me, "Let it out. He can handle it." So, I did. I let the anger and the grief pour out of me, and in that empty space, the soul-search began. Fast forward to the World Education Congress (WEC). The energy of the conference was buzzing all around me, but inside, something shifted. I found myself standing in front of Seth from Dear World. If you’ve ever seen their work, you know they ask you to boil your soul down to a few words, written right on your skin, to be captured in a portrait. Seth looked at me and asked what I wanted written on my arms. Without hesitation, the truth rushed to the surface. "I found God again." That was what I needed to project to the world. Because against all odds, it was true. The bitterness had faded, replaced by a profound, hard-won peace. Since that day, I have relied on God for everything. You might call that presence something else. You might not be a person of faith at all, and I respect that. Because when you lose someone, you love so deeply2, when a vibrant 72-year-old mother is taken from you, it is only human to question the mechanics of the universe. You look around and wonder why the best people are taken too soon, while others are left behind. But I’ve learned we aren’t here to judge the grand design. Today, that photograph from WEC is a beautiful, permanent anchor. It is a reminder of the foundational faith I’ve carried since I was a little girl. It is proof that you can lose your way, scream into the dark, and still be found. My mother and father are together now, free from pain and time. And as for me? I know that one day, I will see them again. Until then, peace be with you.