The holiday season comes clothed in glittering lights, familiar hymns, and cherished traditions. It is often spoken of as a season of joy and celebration, rich with togetherness and expectation. Yet for those walking through grief, this sacred season meets a tender heart, and the holidays can feel heavy, quiet, and anything but joyful. Grief has a way of amplifying everything, and during the holidays, it speaks louder. Every ornament pulled from a box carries a memory. Every

It’s hard to believe we’ve already turned the page to December. Thanksgiving has passed, and now Christmas is quickly approaching — another holiday at our heels, another one to get through. For many, this is a season filled with excitement and joy. But for those of us who have lost someone we love; it can also bring a deep ache that seems to grow louder with each twinkling light and familiar carol.

In just a couple of days, families will gather around tables filled with food, laughter, and stories. Yet for many, this week feels different. There’s an empty place where a loved one once sat — a silence that speaks louder than any words.

Friends, every year around this time, I’m reminded how the holidays can stir both joy and heartache. When the holidays feel heavy, all I can think about is how many of us will miss our loved ones on Thanksgiving and the empty chair facing us.

The Thanksgiving season invites us to count our blessings, to reflect on God’s goodness, and to gather with those we love. But when grief is part of our story, these traditions can feel bittersweet. How do we give thanks when our hearts are broken?

For many, this is a time of joy and connection. But for those who are grieving, the holidays can be overwhelming and feel like a season we quietly brace ourselves for.

Have you ever found yourself asking questions you never thought you’d ask? Questions that seem to echo into silence—like “Why, Lord?” or “How am I supposed to go on?” The questions grief brings has a way of opening our hearts to things we never imagined needing to ask. I’m currently reading the book, The Girl on the Bathroom Floor . It’s the heartbreaking story of the Smith family who lost their 3-year-old boy in a drowning accident. Amber Smith writes with such a profound gu

Grief has a way of narrowing our vision. In the midst of loss, it can feel as though the world has been drained of color, leaving only shades of sorrow. Ordinary moments that once brought delight may now feel hollow, and the weight of absence overshadows everything else. Yet even in the valley of sorrow, God offers us glimpses of beauty—the power of small joys in grief that whisper hope into our hurting hearts. I remember days when getting out of bed felt like an impossible t

When the loss of someone we love turns our world upside down, and when our faith feels fragile, grief has a way of shaking us at the core. We may find ourselves asking questions we never imagined we’d ask: Where are You, God? Why did this happen? How do I go on from here?

When loss first enters our lives, it can feel like the very air has been taken from our lungs. Grief has a way of pressing down so heavily that even the simple act of breathing feels like too much.

Time does not erase the ache of losing a child—it only teaches us how to carry it differently. Yet even in the darkest seasons, I have seen how God begins to move a heart from sorrow to strength, gently leading us toward hope we never thought possible.

Grief can feel like waking up inside a nightmare that doesn’t end when the sun rises. It’s as if time itself slows down, trapping you in moments that others move past easily.

If you’ve ever battled a stubborn illness, you may have heard the discouraging words: “It just needs to run its course.” There’s no quick remedy, only the passage of time. Grief feels much the same. There are no shortcuts or formulas—it’s a journey that unfolds slowly, often far longer than we would like. It’s the slow grace of healing. Loss disrupts everything familiar. The routines we once relied on vanish, leaving us in a landscape that feels foreign and unsteady. We long

Our bodies carry the weight of loss too. Sometimes the heart’s ache is mirrored in aching muscles, a racing pulse, or a fatigue that feels bone-deep. Just as grief is more than one emotion there is a physical side of grief.

Even if it’s hard to believe it right now, as you move forward your heart won’t always feel as tender or your grief as intense as it does in the early days, weeks, and months following a loss. When grief shatters our hearts, choosing joy can feel like an impossible choice.

Most people think the grieving period is over after the funeral and we should simply pick up the pieces and move on, forgetting our loved ones who are no longer with us. Kind of like “out of sight, out of mind.” But for those walking the journey we know all too well this is just the beginning of a journey filled with many ups and downs. Even if our loved ones are no longer in our sight, they will forever be in our hearts and mind.

When grieving a loved one, it’s pretty typical to question God and even turn away from Him. Our silence toward Him is exhibited in a variety of ways. Have you found yourself angry with God for letting your loved one die? How often have you shared some words with God that weren’t so pretty? Anger is grief that has been silent for too long.

There are no shortcuts through grief. Covering my ears, or covering my heart, only keeps the sorrow at bay temporarily. Feel all the feelings. Cry all the tears—though it seems the more we let them fall, the more they produce. Perhaps we can think of them as holy raindrops.

No matter how long it’s been since my daughter ran ahead to Heaven, I have come to terms with the fact that grief is a lifelong journey. Because of that, I’m always continuing to learn how to live life around it.

As time moves forward it’s quite natural that others around us seem to forget that we are still missing a big piece of our hearts. I don’t blame them for forgetting. It’s not until a piece of our heart is no longer with us that it hits home.