Part 3: Finding Healing When You Finally Let Yourself Grieve
When I finally allowed myself to face my grief, it was both heartbreaking and healing. For years, I had held everything together—staying strong for my children, showing up for responsibilities, convincing myself that moving forward meant not looking back. But eventually, I reached a point where I could no longer hold it all in.
When the floodgates opened, they opened wide.
There were tears—many of them. There were counseling sessions, long walks, quiet mornings, and late nights spent praying through questions I didn’t have answers to. It wasn’t tidy or quick, and it certainly wasn’t easy. But for the first time in a long time, I could breathe.
I didn’t have to pretend anymore.
In that season, I began to understand something important: grieving doesn’t mean you’ve failed to move forward. It means you’re allowing God to heal what’s been wounded. I started to see how tightly I had been holding on—to control, to expectations, to what I thought my life should look like. And slowly, God invited me to loosen my grip.
Through counseling, Scripture, and a Bible study I joined during that time, I began to see how deeply God cared for me in my brokenness. He wasn’t asking me to rush my healing or “get over it.” He was asking me to bring my whole heart—messy, grieving, questioning—into His presence.
Scripture tells us, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3). Not all at once. Not without pain. But faithfully and tenderly.
Letting myself grieve didn’t make the loss disappear, but it did bring peace. It softened the harshness of fresh grief and replaced constant fear with a steadier trust. Over time, I found that healing didn’t erase the love or the loss—it made room for both grief and hope to coexist.
If you’ve been holding everything together, afraid that stopping will cause everything to fall apart, I want you to hear this:
It’s okay to rest.
It’s okay to cry.
It’s okay to admit that this hurts more than you expected.
God is not overwhelmed by your pain. He is near to it.
It’s okay to cry.
It’s okay to admit that this hurts more than you expected.
God is not overwhelmed by your pain. He is near to it.
Healing often begins in quiet, ordinary ways—through journaling, prayer, counseling, sitting in silence, or simply allowing yourself to feel without rushing to fix it. There is no timeline for grief, and there is no “right” way to walk through it.
The same God who walks with us through loss is the One who promises to bring beauty from ashes. Not by minimizing the pain, but by redeeming it.
If you’re standing at the edge of your own grief, unsure how to move forward, know that you don’t have to run from it. You don’t have to carry it alone. There is hope—not on the other side of pretending everything is fine, but right here, in the middle of your healing journey.
If you’re walking through grief and need a quiet place to process, I have created resources specifically for you in my Etsy shop, HOPE & HARMONY PAGES. These three digital printables work on their own and hand in hand with each other:
30 SCRIPTURE CARDS FOR GRIEF. If you know someone these might encourage, I would be honored if you’d share these resources—and my blog—with them.
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