If you’re new to this journey of grief, and you’ve recently found this page, there are a few things you should know.
First: I’m both thankful and sorry that you are here. I hope you will feel safe and loved in this space. Above all, I hope you find Jesus here.
Second: I’ve been “grieving out loud” for almost two and a half years, but it’s really been much longer than that. My grief journey began twenty-four years ago with the death of my firstborn. I’ll be honest; I didn’t grieve very well. But then, who does?
When my husband died, my word for the year was “worthy,” and my scripture was
Ephesians 4:1-2: “I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness…” The greatest desire of my heart was (and is) to walk worthy of my true calling—to glorify my Savior in life and in death. Thus began one of the messiest, most violent wrestling matches of my life, which I shared with the world in real-time.
All that to say, it took me 29 months of serious soul searching to get to where I am today. And 24 years of grief work. If you are a mile behind me in the valley of suffering, don’t expect to be beside me in the healing process. You’ll get there, eventually, with the help of the Holy Spirit. I promise.
It’s okay if the things I write today don’t resonate with you…If you think, “you just don’t understand!”…If you want to unfollow me because it all seems too lofty. I get it. May I suggest you go back and start at the very beginning? Scroll back to October of 2021 and follow the journey as I walked it. Real and raw. You may find it more relatable.
Here’s some encouragement I can offer: if you press into Jesus, run to Him with your lament, and seek His Word for truths to combat the fears and questions swirling around you, you will gradually get here. To restored faith. To real healing. To renewed hope.
Third: None of us have arrived. We are all still clinging to the hem of His garment. I’m not here to judge anyone or preach at anyone. I’d have no right. I just want us to dig deeper. I want us to wrestle with these things. I also want the one amongst us who feels like she’s not “measuring up” to know that she is seen, and there is no measuring rod here.
Sometimes, the answers aren’t easy. Sometimes, there’s more than meets the eye. Sometimes, things get worse before they get better. Sometimes, we can only trust, because there isn’t an answer.
We’re not in a fishbowl here; we are in a sisterhood, bonded by the horrific. We haven’t walked this exact valley before, so we will likely take turns tripping on the rocky terrain. But, if we join hands and hearts, we can also take turns holding each other up.
Because God gave us to each other—for such a time as this.
