The Lord has said, "Comfort ye, comfort ye my people." He speaks it to angels, and He speaks it to all who have tasted that He is good. I charge you, go to your mother and tell her this: the blood of Jesus whispers peace within, peace, perfect peace, even now, while fears swell and the shadow of a lump looms large. When the mind is stayed upon Him, He keeps in double peace, peace. No present trouble can drown that still small voice.
Remind her that He who won her former battle is the same, and His power is not diminished because she is tired. "The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations." The very least thing about Christ is medicine for trembling hearts. A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoking flax He will not quench. She is weary, and sorrow for her brother cuts deep; but "Jesus has vanquished death and all its powers." He is not lost, but safe in the keeping that holds all the saints. Let her find comfort in God's Word, not only the letter, but the quickening Spirit who life floods the soul. That quickening is better than a mere comfort; it is life from the dead.
Why be fearful? The Master of the tempest is in the vessel. Bid her look back at past deliverances and say, "I know whom I have believed." Then, though the physician's report tarries, the Lord will ordain peace for her. Earth's struggles soon shall cease, and for now, He gathers the lambs in His arms. Peace, yes, perfect peace, be upon her and upon all Israel. In Jesus' name, it is surely so.