Not all losses come at once. Some unfold slowly, and others only become clear much later. When Jon became sick and eventually passed away, I discovered layer after layer of loss I wasn’t prepared for.
Some of those losses happened gradually. As Jon’s cancer progressed, he wasn’t able to handle the responsibilities he once carried. Slowly, the things he took care of became mine to manage. Dinner around the table as a family grew less frequent as his appetite faded. The dreams we once talked about for our future—retirement, travel, growing old together—slipped away piece by piece. And as his illness worsened, my sense of direction vanished. My “map” for life had always included Jon, and when his journey ended, mine felt blank.
Other losses became painfully clear after he was gone. Jon was my safe place. I could share my fears, my struggles, and even my shortcomings without judgment. He knew me completely and loved me anyway. Without him, I felt exposed and unanchored. I also lost my encourager—the one who reminded me of what I was doing well, who cheered me on in motherhood, in faith, and in life. His words carried me through so many seasons, and their absence left a deep silence.
Read more...When a loved one dies, it’s easy to see what is lost. But the loss is so much bigger than just the person.
When my husband Jon passed away, I had no idea the magnitude of loss I was facing. Of course, I grieved losing him—but as the days and months went on, I realized there were so many other pieces of my life that disappeared with him.
One of the hardest parts was the loss of identity. Overnight, I went from being a wife to being a widow. I had also been Jon’s caregiver for 3 ½ years, a role I never expected to take on but one that became my full-time job. Suddenly, that role was gone, and I was left with empty hands and an aching heart, unsure of what to do with myself. I also became a single mom in an instant, carrying the weight of parenting alone while grieving at the same time. On top of that I had to adjust to losing my identity as a pastor’s wife. For years, that had shaped the way people saw me and my role in the church, and it took a long time to unravel and learn how to simply be a regular church member.
Read more...Trusting God Through Grief and Quiet
I’ve always been someone who likes to stay busy. There’s something comforting about crossing things off a to-do list, filling the day with tasks, and feeling like I’ve accomplished something. But if I’m honest, sometimes the busyness is just noise.
As a widow, I’ve learned that staying busy can feel like survival. It keeps my mind occupied, gives me purpose, and—let’s be real—it can help me avoid the heavy feelings and thoughts I don’t always want to face. Grief has a way of sneaking in during the quiet moments, so for a long time, I filled my life with movement and distraction.
But the truth is, I’ve also discovered that God often meets me—not in the chaos, but in the stillness.
Read more...One of the hardest parts of sending my kids off to college—especially when they’re nearly 900 miles away—is not being able to be there for the little things. I can’t bring them home when life feels overwhelming, and I can’t drop by with soup when they’re sick. But over the past few years, I’ve found some practical ways to stay connected and care for them, even from a distance.
Here are a few things that have made a difference for us:
Handwritten notes and care packages. College students love mail! In an age of texts and emails, a letter in their mailbox is special. Care packages with snacks, small gifts, or even inside jokes always brightened my kids’ days.
Supplements for their health. Cafeteria food isn’t always the most nutritious. Making sure they had vitamins and supplements gave me peace of mind that they were supporting their health in the gaps.
Read more...Back to school happened about a month ago for us. Many of you have already made this transition, and some of you may even be sending your child to college for the very first time. Since this is my fifth year of sending one or both of my kids to Cedarville University in Ohio—nearly 900 miles away—I thought I’d share what I’ve learned about supporting them from afar.
I won’t sugarcoat it: leaving them there was hard on my heart. I knew it was where God wanted them, but supporting them from nearly 900 miles away has been a learning curve. At times, I felt like I was failing—like I wasn’t doing enough or didn’t have the right answers for their hard questions. But God…those two words have carried me through. He is sufficient when I am not. He has provided for them in ways I could never have orchestrated myself.
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