Grieving my mom and allowing God to be the strong one

By Jana Fraley

As a young girl, I would sometimes grumble and complain with my brothers about all of the hard work and constant “family time” we endured as Wyoming ranch kids living in the high plains and ranges of the Uinta mountains. 

We lived 10 miles from the small town of Mountain View, and at the time, all I wanted was to live in town so I could ride my bike to my best friend’s house.

But ranching is a way of life; we spent each day working together, playing together, and eating three meals a day around the dinner table. We spent long days in the saddle trailing cattle: the feel of fresh air and sunshine on my face, the sounds of creaking leather and bawling calves, and the smell of horse and saddle.

As I grew older, I wanted to be just like my mom. I adored and admired her; she was the epitome of who I wanted to be as a ranch wife and mom. My mom barely reached 5’2” and tough as nails. She had a gentle, patient way with livestock. 

When I was about 10 years old, while in the barn during calving season, I’d watch mom work tirelessly to save newborn calves born in the bitter cold. She never showed frustration, just determination in coaxing life back into these babies. 

More than anything, I wanted to emulate her wisdom and faith. She had boots-to-the-ground faith, not one she just talked about, but that she lived each day.

Shortly before I turned 24, I married a ranch boy from across the state. Mike and I met at the Wyoming State Fair as teenagers. Eventually, we would raise cattle and kids at the base of the Big Horn Mountains in Northern Wyoming with his dad and stepmom. 

After selling the ranch I was raised on, my parents bought a ranch near the small cowtown of Lusk, Wyoming, just a few hours away from our place. 

We would often get together to help with big jobs like brandings in the spring and shipping calves in the fall. In June of 2015, when I was 44 years old, our whole family, including my brothers and their families, gathered at my folks’ place to help with their annual branding.

There are still many old ranching traditions alive and well in the west, and branding is one. This involved gathering the cattle on horseback, putting them in a branding pen, and putting our particular brand on them as a way of proving ownership. A few days later, we would turn them out to summer pasture.  

Mom was bustling around, as usual, trying to be everywhere all at once: in the kitchen cooking for the branding crew, while also making her way to the pen to make sure everything was set, and coffee was hot and ready for cold cowboys. 

I was struck by how selfless my mom was, what a servant’s heart she had — putting everyone else’s needs above her own, loving others deeply.

A sudden, heartbreaking loss

A few days after returning home, I noticed several missed calls and one voicemail from my Dad. As I listened to his voice on the message, my heart just knew my Mom was gone. 

It’s crazy how quickly life can change; that morning, my precious Mother woke up early, had her quiet time and a cup of coffee, fed my Dad breakfast, caught her horse, and proceeded to spend the day like so many others before, working cattle beside her husband. She sorted the calves from the cows as we loaded them onto semi-trucks and hauled them to summer pasture.

But that day, my Mom died instantly as her horse fell over backward, landing on her.

I moved in slow motion for days. Numbed by it and yet experiencing a raw and deep ache. It felt like my heart was breaking, as if a fist was around it, squeezing the life out of me. 

A small part of me wanted to succumb to the feeling of loss and join my mom in heaven. I longed to go to bed, pull the covers over my head, and ignore the world, but at the same time needing to stay busy and distracted.

The days, weeks, and months that followed were full of uncertainty, anxiety, and deep sadness. I didn’t know who I was without my mom. 

My whole life, I valued the identity of being “Jody White’s daughter.” Her steadfast love and faith were my anchor.

What would I do without her? How would I face life’s challenges without her there to guide me with her wisdom and grace?

I struggled reading the Bible or praying. I couldn't concentrate. I found myself skipping church because I would weep at the first worship song. I wasn’t angry at God, but I was angry at my mother for leaving. 

I was tired of trying to be the strong one -- like she had been strong for so many. I just wanted to be alone in my grief.

Allowing God to heal my pain

Those closest to me wouldn’t let go; however, they held onto me with a tenacious love. I thought that talking about our loss would only bring more pain. But I soon found just the presence of loved ones soothed those jagged edges of grief.

Slowly, I got back in the saddle and got to work.

While moving cattle with my family at our ranch one day, I was overwhelmed with God’s love and felt covered in it. In the wide-open spaces and under the clear, blue Wyoming sky, doing what my mother and I both loved so much, I realized that God’s love had never left me. 

Like one of my mother’s handmade quilts, I felt God cover and wrap me in comfort, peace, and security. 

His words to me were more precious than ever, and I recalled a verse from Deuteronomy: “And the Lord, He is the One who goes before you. He will be with you, He will not leave you nor forsake you; do not fear nor be dismayed.” 

The steadfastness of God’s love was even more tangible than the hurt.

Growing up on a ranch, I learned that nothing is ever wasted. Every animal and blade of grass is cared for and cultivated to grow something useful. 

I have also learned that God doesn’t waste anything. He doesn’t waste pain or tragedy, suffering, or grief. He cares for and cultivates us, and as I now see, God used my grief to refine and strengthen me. 

God has given me a deeper appreciation for life and a desire to love others well, knowing it can be gone in a moment. And through my pain, he has given me compassion for those who grieve. 

My Mom is now gone, but I will see her again. And until then, God remains with me and is my true source of wisdom and guidance. 

Jana Fraley is a Wyoming ranch wife, mom, and Christian writer. She loves all things western: art, music, books, skies, and people. When not writing, you will find her working cattle in the corral with her family, cleaning a barn or chicken coop, having deep faith conversations over coffee with her adult daughter. Plus, she loves helping her son with his 4-H projects, cheering him on in the rodeo arena, or riding her horse in the hills and valleys of their McCormick Creek Ranch. She has a heart and passion for encouraging women seeking an authentic and enduring relationship with Christ. You can find her online at rusticandredeemed.com, and follow her on Facebook and Instagram.