Grief can sneak up on you when you least expect it. I thought I was past the hardest waves, but then I found myself back in the ring, battling emotions I didn’t even recognize at first. This is the story of realizing I was grieving again, learning to surrender, and finding my way back to solid ground.

Widow. A word that felt like an identity crisis the moment it entered my life. But God had a different story to write. When my world changed, He called me to step into my true identity—not as a widow defined by loss, but as His daughter, redeemed and empowered. This is my journey of reclaiming strength, finding purpose, and refusing to let the world define me.

Why did Jesus refuse the first cup of wine on the cross but drink the second? This small but significant detail reveals a profound truth about suffering, endurance, and the purpose of pain. In this reflection, I explore how Jesus’ choices teach us to lean into suffering rather than numb it—and how His ultimate sacrifice offers us a path to redemption and healing.

What do you do when the future you envisioned disappears in an instant? When the dreams you built your life around are suddenly no longer possible? Grief has a way of shattering not just the present but the dreams of what was to come. In this reflection, I share my journey of moving forward, rebuilding hope, and learning to trust God with a new vision for my life.

The day Joe passed, I had a choice to make. Would this loss define me, or refine me? In the midst of unimaginable grief, with my father holding space for me, I made a decision—I would figure it out. I would walk forward, one breath at a time, leaning into faith.

And that’s what I’ve done. God met me in my pain, held me in my sorrow, and gave me the strength to move forward. Today, I live big, love big, and embrace the life I have with open arms.

One year ago, grief entered my life like a tidal wave, pulling me under. Today, I look back at that broken woman and tell her all the things she couldn’t see then—the strength she would find, the faith that would sustain her, the transformation that was waiting on the other side.

Healing is hard, but it is holy work. Every battle was fought with God’s hand over me, guiding me through grief, stripping away fear, and restoring my identity in Him. The old me is gone. The new me walks forward with confidence, joy, and unwavering faith.

We serve a limitless God, yet we allow the enemy to shackle us with limiting beliefs. Why? Because strongholds are built slowly, foothold by foothold—until we’re stuck. But here’s the truth: God speaks, and everything can change.

Obedience is the key to unlocking transformation. It’s how we close the gap between the word of God and the work of God in our lives. When we move in obedience—before we feel ready—chains break, strongholds fall, and our identity is secured in Christ.

Seasons change, and when God calls you forward, He doesn’t wait for a date on the calendar—He moves. My journey of healing didn’t require a trip across the world; it required seeking Him right where I am. Now, He’s changing my season, and I’m embracing it fully. No more writing in two chapters—this is the start of Part Two.

Spiritual warfare is real, and the enemy doesn’t just attack where you are—he attacks what you could become. This past year, I’ve battled grief, doubt, and fear, but I’ve learned to fight back with the most powerful weapon: prayer. In the fight for healing and hope, I’ve discovered my battle cry. I am victorious—not because the war is over, but because I now know how to win.

Distraction and chaos can fill our lives so easily, leaving no room for what truly matters. Lately, I’ve felt the pull to declutter—not just my home, but my heart and mind, too. God doesn’t fill full cups; He fills the empty ones. Creating space for Him means intentionally pruning the distractions and making room for more of what fills my soul.

Grief changes the way you see the world. Over the past ten months, I’ve realized that life is viewed through shifting lenses—grief, sorrow, anxiety, healing. But the clearest lens I’ve put on is Jesus. His presence brings everything into focus, adjusting my perspective and guiding me forward. When life feels blurry, I’m learning to trust Him as my vision clears.

Hold me, Jesus. Those were the only words I could whisper when I got the call that Joe’s father had passed away. Grief has a way of resurfacing when you least expect it, but I’m learning that healing isn’t linear—it’s an upward spiral. Every layer of pain is an invitation to deeper faith. Growth happens in the rain, and even when the storm feels relentless, God is there, holding us through it all.

Grief breaks you wide open, but if you let it, it can also transform you. Nine months into this journey, I’ve felt the shifts—the relationships that fade, the ones that remain, and the unexpected new ones that walk in. Through it all, I’ve learned that leaning in—to God, to love, to healing—is the only way through.

Eight months without Joe, and grief still comes in waves—sometimes like a rip tide, sometimes like a light switch flipping on and off. But healing is a process, not a moment. I’m learning to name my emotions, flip the script, and step forward in faith. Because even in the darkness, God’s light is always there, waiting to be revealed.

Seven months into grief, I feel the tide shifting. The waves still come, but they no longer pull me under. Life is finding a new rhythm—one filled with joy, healing, and dreams for the future. Grief doesn’t end, but I am learning to embrace the changing current and trust where it takes me.

The start of a new year feels different after loss. Moving forward isn’t about leaving Joe behind—it’s about carrying him with us as we dream, plan, and embrace what’s ahead. Grief and joy exist together, and as we step into this new season, we choose to cherish the past while creating new memories. 

Six months without Joe—183 days of grief, healing, and remembering that every moment matters. This journey has deepened my faith and led me to a new calling: Healing Journeys with Jesus, a podcast dedicated to sharing stories of trials, hope, and God’s hand in our lives. Every moment—no matter how small—is part of His greater plan.

Nothing prepares you for the first Christmas after loss. The empty stocking with Joe’s initial hangs quietly on our mantle, a reminder of his love for this season. While grief is present, so is gratitude. We are choosing to fill the emptiness with love, memories, and the joy he brought into our lives.

Dropping my daughter off at college was a whirlwind of emotions—excitement for her dreams coming true and heartache for the distance that now separates us. As she embarks on this new chapter, I’m left navigating life with a quieter home and a full heart. These are the 75 life lessons I hope I’ve taught my daughters—words of wisdom to guide them as they soar.

Yesterday, I attended the funeral of a woman I had never met in person—only to find myself at a church event later that evening centered around the theme of breath. In God’s divine timing, I was reminded to slow down, embrace the moment, and trust that even in grief, there is renewal. Life is fragile, love is precious, and every breath is a gift.