And If Not… He Is Still Good
A friend shared this recently: “And if not, He is still good” (Daniel 3:18).
I can’t tell you how much it resonated. Sometimes God answers our prayers differently than we hope—or not in the way we want at all. And yet, even when His answer doesn’t match our expectations, He is still good.
I know this truth deeply, not just in theory, but in life. Sixteen years ago, I became a widow while raising two young children. In one moment, my life as I knew it disappeared. Plans, dreams, identity, routines—all gone. I found myself asking the same questions I imagine many of you have: Why? Why now? Why like this?
And yet, even in that heart-wrenching season, I began to see glimpses of God’s goodness. I didn’t see them right away, and it took me a long time to choose to see His goodness. He gave me strength I didn’t know I had, kindness from friends and family I hadn’t expected, and a sense of peace that could only come from Him. I began learning that His goodness isn’t dependent on circumstances.
God is still good, even when a diagnosis is frightening.
God is still good, even when you lose a job you loved.
God is still good, even when a dream you’ve worked toward is lost.
God is still good, even when a loved one dies.
God is still good, even when you lose a job you loved.
God is still good, even when a dream you’ve worked toward is lost.
God is still good, even when a loved one dies.
When Gratitude Feels Impossible
Grief is hard.
It’s heavy.
It’s an impossible burden to carry.
It’s heavy.
It’s an impossible burden to carry.
It feels like you’re always going to feel this way. You’re angry, sad, overwhelmed, and completely spent. There are endless questions — Why did this happen? Why do I have to feel this way? When will it stop? You can’t imagine ever moving through the grief to the other side. And part of you doesn’t even want to, because that might mean you’re forgetting.
Grief can feel intense, exhausting, and completely unfair.
I get it. I experienced all of this when my husband passed. Some days, the weight of it all made it nearly impossible to get out of bed. Other days brought a brief sense of relief — only to be followed by guilt because maybe I wasn't missing him enough.
Read more...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...Two years ago I started this blog because of a desire God had placed on my heart to minister to those who have experienced loss. But if I’m honest, I delayed starting it because I didn’t feel ready or qualified.
I was terrified that no one would read it.
I was afraid I would have nothing to say.
I didn’t feel like I was a very good writer.
All of these excuses are just that...excuses. They’re nothing more than delayed obedience. When God calls us to do something, He often does it to show His strength, not ours. When I finally stepped out in obedience, I was afraid, but God has always provided.
He gives me words when I have none.
He shows me the topics to write about.
He provides encouragement when I need it.
God has used this blog in my life to continue my healing journey, to help me share thoughts and feelings that you may relate to, and has allowed me to meet some amazing people and reconnect with others because of this space! I’m so thankful!
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