The Complication:
Where the wound surfaced—and God named it.
The plan for my 15-day Texas trip was simple: drive from Dallas to San Antonio to Houston, connect with the friends and family God laid on my heart, and share Momming with Grace Ministries with many who knew me as a teenage mom. That’s what I thought the purpose of the trip was.
But God had far bigger plans.
I diligently prayed — asking Him to guide every conversation, every moment, every step. And He did. God showed up in mighty and unexpected ways all along the way.
After two amazing weeks in Texas, I was packing my bags on Saturday night in San Antonio, reflecting on the trip.
And that’s when God impressed something unexpected on my heart—I needed to stop in Weimar, the small Texas town where my maternal grandparents once lived, and my mom, dad, and sister are buried. And… it was right on my way to Houston.
Stop in Weimar.
Go to the cemetery.
I mean… that’s what people do, right? Visit the graves of their family members who have gone before them???
Since this came out of nowhere but I still wanted something for the graveside, I stopped at Buc-ee’s. I wandered around until I finally asked an employee for ideas. She showed me these unique metal-sculpted doves holding an olive branch, with a rock base sturdy enough not to blow over.
Alright. Check. This will work, and it will last a long time.
I got back in the car and tried calling a few people, but the speakers on my phone weren’t cooperating. So I switched to the radio, listening to the Jacksonville Jaguars beat up on the Indianapolis Colts. About ten miles from Weimar, I lost reception.
It felt like God wanted the noise gone—like He wanted quiet so I could hear Him and reflect.
So I started praying, asking why He wanted me to stop at the cemetery. And then one word rose in my spirit:
Forgiveness.
Suddenly my mind flooded with memories—abuse from my father, brokenness from my childhood. I truly believe I forgave him years ago. But sometimes anger still hits. Sometimes hopelessness sneaks in. Sometimes I still doubt that I am loved.
Recently, God has been showing me that if Iʼm going to help moms through Momming with Grace, I have to let Him into the hidden places—old pockets of unforgiveness, bitterness, pain. In the past few months I sought counsel for inner healing, not realizing those meetings were preparing me for what He was about to do in Texas.
My mind was swirling.
I was crying, emotional, overwhelmed.
The Encounter
Where Jesus stepped in – and everything broke open.
Still on the highway, trying to focus through the swirl of emotions, my eyes dropped to the phone just long enough to see the low-battery warning. Being in unfamiliar territory, the safest thing was to plug it in. For two full weeks this rental car hadn’t once prompted me to connect to Apple CarPlay.
Until now.
One tap on “yesˮ, my acoustic Christian playlist loaded, and the very song we had sung at church that morning began to play:
“I Surrender All.”
Tears came again. The Holy Spirit wrapped around me—comforting me while releasing years of buried emotion.
Then came cries from deep within my soul:
“I forgive you, Dad, for all the abuse.”
“I forgive you, Mom, for not protecting us.”
“I forgive you, Beth, for committing suicide.”
As I drove into the cemetery, Matt Maher’s “The Lord’s Prayer (It’s Yours)” played:
Father, let Your Kingdom come.
Father, let Your will be done.
On earth as in Heaven—
Right here in my heart.
Ugly cry. The uncontrollable kind.
Forgive us, forgive us
As we forgive the ones who sinned against us…
And the weeping deepened.
“Dad, I forgive you for hurting me.
Mom, I forgive you for letting him.
Beth, I forgive you for taking your life.”
I don’t want to carry this anymore—not ANY of it.
I had forgiven them before, but I hadn’t given it all to God.
Satan had kept one last thread of bitterness tucked away, hoping it would keep me from true peace. I knew inner healing was needed, but without full healing, there would always be a barrier between me and helping others heal.
Still crying, I thanked God:
“Thank You, God. Thank You for this moment. Thank You for Your timing. Thank You for Your sovereignty.
Thank You, Lord Jesus, that You died for my sins so I could forgive others—and be forgiven.”
I kept singing, praising, and worshiping Jesus as Lord over my life. I repeated forgiveness over —my dad, my mom, and my sister—until it dug so deep that I felt physically sick, like all the bitterness and hurt were being wrung out of me.
“Oh Father God, I just want peace. I just want peace.”
I grabbed the Buc-ee’s bag and pulled out what I had bought for the graves. I looked at that metal dove and olive branch and started bawling again. I had just cried out, “I want peace,” and miles up the road at Buc-ee’s, the employee had led me right to the universal symbol of peace.
Only God.
In that moment, I felt no attachment to the bitterness anymore. No resentment. No weight.
I wept until I had no tears left, whispering:
“God, You are so good. You are so good to me.”
I was spent. Completely exhausted.
After resting, I opened the door and a gust of wind hit me straight in the face.
I stepped out. It was chilly. Windy. Nothing like San Antonio earlier that day. I grabbed my jacket as the wind cut straight through my clothes.
I smiled.
Breathed deep.
Smiled again.
Ruach.
The breath of God.
The wind.
His Spirit.
He made Himself known to me in such a personal, yet mighty way.
Now—to find their graves.
I walked and walked and looked and walked some more.
Still nothing. My back and hips were aching, and my feet were on fire. Then, a dear brother in Christ that I reconnected with in San Antonio called. I shared with him what was going on and he prayed for me to find the grave.
I looked and walked a bit more and then finally drove to St. Michael’s, hoping the priest could help. A young woman told me to ring the rectory doorbell. I’m sure I looked like a sight—tear-stained, windblown, emotionally wrecked.
When he answered, I said,
“Father, my name is Cathy Hennessy. My parents and sister are buried in the cemetery, and I’ve been walking for an hour and can’t find it.”
He said,
“I’m sorry, the office is closed and I don’t have access to those records. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
“Father, I’m from Florida,” I said. “I’m driving to Houston and I fly out tomorrow.”
He responded,
“I have a class in a few minutes. I can’t help you. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
In the middle of one of the most impactful encounters I’ve ever had with God… this. My immediate thought was, “Wow… couldn’t he see how much I needed to find the grave?”
But the experience God was giving me was sacred, and I wasn’t going to let my flesh ruin it.
So I went back to the cemetery and searched for another 30 minutes. Still nothing.
But the peace remained— a peace like I had never known.
The Restoration:
Where God finished the work—and gave peace that stayed.
Then a word from Max Lucado’s sermon the night before came to mind:
Tetelistai.
“It is finished.”
I didn’t need to leave anything on their graves. God had finished the work in me.
Tetelistai.
Thank You, God, for Your goodness.
P.S. (Post-Script)
Before driving off, I checked my messages. The friend who prayed for me had sent his church notes—“Tetelestai” printed boldly in the middle.
A Note for You
If you are holding onto old wounds, or if you feel like you’ve forgiven someone but the anger keeps returning, ask God to show you what is hidden. He wants to completely heal you so that you can breathe deep and experience His peace.
It is finished.