"Did you ever know, dear, how much you took away with you when you left? You have stripped me even of my past, even of the things we never shared.” ~ C.S. Lewis

I debated on whether to post this…or really, anything at all. It’s always so hard for me to talk about my grief. I think it’s hard for others to stand near grief, especially when it’s not their own.

I get that. But I also think that if we don’t talk about all of the good and the bad (and there is good in grief, too) while we’re walking through our sorrow, then we miss a beautiful opportunity to connect with others. The way I see it, if I hurt, and you hurt, then we are the same.

I’m not the only woman on the planet that has lost her husband to brain cancer. I’m not the only widow in the world, either. But throughout this season of death and renewal, it’s often felt like I was alone. The one person in the whole world that I would want to tell all the things to, the one that would carry my grief with me, is the one no longer here. He’s been ‘relocated,’ if you will, and those of us left behind are tasked with the sorrow, regret, unfulfilled hopes, grief, and the space. Always it seems, lots and lots of space. He went home, and left all of this space.

But there is renewal and there is life still waiting. I can’t speak to anyone’s grief journey, but for me, I have felt life calling me back. Joy, peace, hope, and even love are waiting. Because the Lord makes all things new, He does return beauty for ashes. And honestly, most days, ashes are all I have to give Him.

I sat with a sweet friend this past weekend whose husband had an affair. The revelation of it caused collateral damage for their family at his workplace, complete with litigation and a possibility of bankruptcy on the horizon for her family. She wept with so much sorrow and grief and my heart ached for her. She’ll never be the same person again, and if she chooses to stay in her marriage, that too will never be the same. Perhaps better, worse…I couldn’t say. I do know that it’ll be different going forward.

Joy and sorrow, grief and happiness—they’re all different for me now. They have not been the same since my husband went home. I am not the same. Love is deeper, joy is richer, pain is more acute.

But I can stand here and say that help is coming, friend. Wherever you are, in whatever season, navigating the deep oceans of betrayal or death or pain or sorrow, whenever you feel like the waves will wash over you and keep you below the surface, know that help is coming.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?

My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.”

It’s my husband's birthday today and our anniversary. The deep anguish of his passing is gone and hope and anticipation have replaced it. I still have those waves that hit me on days like today, but I now see the greens in my garden, hear the singing of our rooster, wait for the dough slowly rising on the countertop, and am filled with gratitude for a new world before me, another day to see the good that remains here. I’m filled with gratitude that my husband’s days here were not the end of his story, and although it felt like it at times, they weren’t the end of mine.

I got a call this morning that my father had unexpectedly passed away. He just turned 75. I packed up my son and we drove the long road back home. The same familiar anguish, although in a different shape, is rising right in me. I weep for my mother too, who is in so many ways, now just like me.

Words for you, words for me. Isn't that the way of a writer? We write to give hope and encourage, and often times, we write to point our very selves to the hope that we all are waiting for. In dark days, that deep knowing that help is coming, it helps you get through just that day. Sometimes, that's all that we need to do, is just get through this day and just do the next thing. I find myself in familiar sorrows yet again.

Keep moving, sweet friend. The Lord sees you where you are.

He sees me. 

Our ever-present help comes from Him. And He never leaves us nor forsakes us. Call to Him, for He is close to the broken-hearted and I too will meet you there. 🤍