A Heart Held Together

There are some conversations that stay with me long after the recording ends. This episode with Tracy Van Horn was one of those conversations.

As Tracy shared the story of her granddaughter, Cora, I kept thinking about how fragile the human heart can feel in seasons of grief. How quickly fear, heartbreak, exhaustion, and uncertainty can leave us feeling completely undone.

And yet somehow, through the middle of it all, God holds us together.

Before Tracy shared her story, I talked a little about the phrase I often say at the end of my podcast: Be still, believe, become.

For me, being still means remembering who we are in the eyes of God and quieting ourselves enough to hear Him. Believing is the action of choosing faith even when life feels painfully uncertain. And becoming is allowing the atonement of Jesus Christ to soften, strengthen, and heal our hearts so we can become who He created us to be.

This conversation reflected all of those things.

In this episode:

• Understanding “Be Still, Believe, Become”

• Navigating a Devastating Diagnosis

• Learning to Trust God Through Fear

• Recognizing God’s Tender Mercies

• Finding Peace Through Eternal Perspective

Tracy’s daughter, Shannon, went into her anatomy scan expecting a normal appointment. Instead, she and her husband Derek were told their baby had Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS), a condition where one side of the heart does not fully develop.

At first, doctors believed their baby would not survive.

As a mother, I cannot imagine hearing those words and knowing there is nothing you can do to fix it.

Then came a shift in the diagnosis. One condition was ruled out, and suddenly there was hope again. Their baby girl now had an 85% chance of survival through multiple open-heart surgeries.

But even with hope, fear remained.

Sometimes faith is not the absence of fear. Sometimes faith is simply continuing forward while your heart trembles.

One thing that deeply impacted me during this conversation was hearing Tracy explain what it felt like to support her daughter while carrying her own grief at the same time.

As mothers, we want to protect our children from pain. We want to carry the burden for them. But there are moments in life where we cannot remove the suffering. We can only sit beside the people we love and ache with them.

Tracy described watching tiny Cora connected to machines, tubes covering her fragile body after open-heart surgery at only two days old.

I honestly cannot imagine the weight of that.

But even in the middle of heartbreak, God kept showing up through tender mercies.

A room opened at the Ronald McDonald House. Nurses lovingly cared for their family. Church members offered meals, childcare, support, and prayers. Complete strangers carried them when they were too exhausted to carry themselves.

Sometimes God holds our hearts together through the people He places around us.

One of my favorite moments in this episode was when Tracy shared how she intentionally chose to slow down and simply be still before the Lord.

After another medical crisis, instead of filling her day with frantic activity, she stayed home quietly doing housework and listening for spiritual promptings.

That resonated with me deeply because I think many of us cope with pain by staying busy.

We keep moving because stillness forces us to feel what we are trying to avoid.

But often, peace comes when we finally stop running long enough to hear God speak.

Tracy shared that when she slowed down, she began noticing the angels God had already placed around them. Her perspective shifted from panic to trust.

And honestly, I think that is one of the hardest parts of faith.

Not controlling.
Not fixing.
Not understanding.

Just trusting.

One of the most powerful parts of this conversation was hearing Tracy talk about prayer.

She wanted a miracle.
She wanted Cora to live.
She wanted healing.

And as Cora’s condition worsened, Tracy started wondering if it was even right to keep praying for what she wanted if it was not God’s will.

Then she reflected on the Savior in Gethsemane.

Even Jesus asked for the cup to pass from Him.

That realization changed everything for her.

God wants us to bring Him the honest desires of our hearts. He wants our vulnerability. He wants our grief, our fear, our anger, and our hope.

Trusting God does not mean pretending pain does not exist.

It means continuing to place our hearts in His hands anyway.

Eventually, the family reached the heartbreaking reality that Cora would not survive.

After a month of surgeries, complications, cardiac arrests, and unimaginable emotional pain, they made the decision to remove life support.

And yet, in the middle of the deepest grief, Tracy described feeling overwhelming peace the moment Cora passed.

Not because losing her granddaughter was easy.

But because heaven suddenly felt real.

She felt joy knowing Cora was whole.
No more tubes.
No more pain.
No more struggling to breathe.
No more broken heart.

Just peace.

That eternal perspective changes everything.

When we truly trust Jesus Christ, we begin to understand that death is not the end of the story. Because of Him, healing is eternal.

During this conversation, we talked about the parable of the sower and how our hearts are the soil.

Trials reveal what is rooted inside us. They expose fear, anxiety, pride, pain, and weakness. But they also create space for the Savior to heal us if we let Him.

One thing Tracy said will stay with me forever:

“Cora was born with half a heart, but maybe she was born with a perfect heart. Maybe it’s our hearts that needed healing.”

That perspective is powerful.

And honestly, I think that is what becoming looks like.

Not perfection.
Not pretending we are okay.

But allowing Christ to slowly hold together the broken places inside us.

This episode reminded me that becoming is rarely comfortable.

Transformation usually happens in the middle of surrender.
In the middle of heartbreak.
In the middle of prayers we do not understand.

But Jesus Christ does not waste our pain.

He strengthens us through it.
He softens us through it.
He teaches us to trust Him more deeply through it.

And somehow, little by little, He holds our hearts together while He heals them.

This conversation reminded me that peace does not come from controlling outcomes.

Peace comes from knowing who holds our hearts.

There will be moments in life that completely undo us. Moments where prayers feel unanswered and grief feels unbearable. But Jesus Christ walks with us through every part of it.

And when we allow Him to, He will hold together the pieces we cannot carry on our own.

Until next time…

Be still. Believe. Become.