When Grief Replays the Hardest Moments
How to Reframe Pain With God’s Word
Waking Up Inside a Memory You Didn’t Ask For
Have you ever opened up your eyes and immediately been pulled into a memory you didn’t ask for? That was me this morning. Before I even had time to take a deep breath, the images of my son’s death filled my mind. The room was quiet. It was still dark outside. But my thoughts were loud, and I could feel the ache rising all over in my chest.
When those moments come—and they will—we have a choice to make. That’s what I want to talk to you about today. I want to teach you how to stop a memory from taking you places you don’t want to go, and how to invite God to meet you right there in that moment.
“Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think.”
— Romans 12:2 (NLT)
Why Some Memories Stick So Hard
This morning when I woke up with those images of Andrew’s death, all of my senses were involved. Our son died in a plane crash. The plane went down around 11:34 a.m.—four minutes after takeoff. Andrew was a corporate pilot. All souls on board died. They fell from the sky—6,000 climbing to 10,000 feet—in 34 seconds. Here today, gone tomorrow. Those were the darkest days of my life.
I didn’t even know for two hours. The way those events unfolded required intensive therapy to help me manage the trauma. We later went to the crash site. We couldn’t get access the day of, but months afterward we knew we needed to go because the enemy was hanging it over me like a trap—a big net ready to drop and cinch tight the moment I stepped into that space. I knew if we didn’t face it, I was going to lose my mind over the images my brain kept creating.
We asked our small group to meet us and pray. They laid hands on us and prayed for spritual protection. A local friend guided us deep into the woods. The jet fuel smell was still strong even months later. Caution tape lined the trees. What I saw, smelled, and heard in those woods was incredibly hard to manage because it was past tense—and yet I was walking into it with all my senses. Without tangible evidence of Andrew’s death, my brain struggled to accept he was really gone.
I’m telling you this to say: if you’ve walked through traumatic loss, I understand. Many child deaths are sudden and traumatic. And for those precious moms who watched a long, difficult decline—you carry extended trauma that repeats day after day. Grief comes with layers. I’m sharing this layer of trauma so I can help you see it’s possible to reframe these images with God’s Word and actually transform the pathways your mind is using.
Those memories are sensory. They stamp themselves into the amygdala—the emotional center of the brain—while the frontal cortex (your fact-finder) tries to make sense of it. That’s why the replay feels automatic. I’ve had a lot of therapy. And I’ve had a lot of practice with what I’m about to teach you. If it’s possible for me, friend, it’s possible for you.
What You Remember Isn’t Always Your Choice—But What You Do Next Is
Recently, I read information related to Andrew’s death—not brand-new, but new to me. It answered a prayer, and it satisfied my soul in a way I hadn’t experienced in six years. I believe the Holy Spirit led me to it. But reading those timelines stirred up the trauma again. Tony and I prayed and thanked God for what He showed us, but those timelines woke the old pain—and my mind replayed it while I slept. With Andrew’s Heaven day around the corner, I don’t have to tell you how that lands.
So what did I do next? What I’m teaching you is something I’ve practiced so consistently it’s become a habit—almost automatic now. The key is renewing your mind with Scripture. It’s not about stopping the thoughts (we want that so badly). It’s about redirecting them. I’ve learned to replace images with God’s Word. It takes practice, but when truth becomes a habit, healing becomes a way of life.
A gentle caution: those last images—whether sudden trauma or the long road you walked to the end—get etched deeply. If we don’t develop the habit of renewing our minds, the cost is high. Our brains stay in survival mode. Studies suggest a portion of bereaved adults experience prolonged grief symptoms—and rates are even higher for bereaved parents after sudden or traumatic loss. I don’t say that to scare you, but to highlight how urgent and kind it is to learn renewal with God’s Word.
The Forgiveness Piece We Often Miss
Another piece I don’t talk about often: unforgiveness. There are two sides—forgiving yourself for accusations you’ve put on your own heart, and forgiving others when you feel they were responsible or could have prevented your child’s death. If we’re not careful, we can develop a spirit of hatred and make vengeance our goal. That keeps us stuck.
This is one of grief’s blind spots. You might not recognize it because the loss consumes everything. But until you let the Holy Spirit work forgiveness—toward yourself and others—you’ll stay stuck. We’re actively working through this in The Grief Roadmap right now.
How I Survive: Prayer, Word, and the Long Obedience
The only way I have survived Andrew’s death is by what the Holy Spirit has taught me through His Word. It took time for me to become teachable—no shame in that. I’d say it took about a year to 18 months before my heart softened enough to be molded again. I was in weekly therapy for 18 months because I knew this was bigger than me. I learned replacement therapy for trauma. I also learned I needed Christ-centered counsel—people who would lead me through Scripture and truth. This journey requires knowing Jesus intimately. Without that, peace isn’t attainable. Hopelessness and fear will rule, and joy will feel like it belongs to the past.
So what did I do this morning? I did what I do every day: I prayed before I got out of bed. When the images hit, I took them straight to the Lord: “Jesus, I lay this at Your feet. Holy Spirit, help me.” Then I opened to the passage that has anchored me for years: Psalm 139. I memorized the first five verses long before Andrew went home, and God has brought them back to me more times than I can count. After Andrew’s death, the whole chapter became even more precious.
- Verses 1–5 taught me He knows me intimately.
- Verses 7–12 taught me that even when I felt unloved and unseen, that wasn’t true.
- Verses 13–16 taught me my son was precious to God, and even though his life was required of him, he wasn’t less valuable; every day was known by God.
- Verses 17–18 taught me God’s thoughts toward me (and those I love) are beyond counting.
- Verses 19–22 reminded me evil exists here, and we long for righteousness and justice.
- Verses 23–24 invited me to ask God to search my heart and lead me in His everlasting way.
Psalm 139 (New Living Translation)
1 O Lord, you have examined my heart
and know everything about me.
2 You know when I sit down or stand up.
You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
3 You see me when I travel
and when I rest at home.
You know everything I do.
4 You know what I am going to say
even before I say it, Lord.
5 You go before me and follow me.
You place your hand of blessing on my head.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too great for me to understand!7 I can never escape from your Spirit!
I can never get away from your presence!
8 If I go up to heaven, you are there;
if I go down to the grave, you are there.
9 If I ride the wings of the morning,
if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
and your strength will support me.
11 I could ask the darkness to hide me
and the light around me to become night—
12 but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.
To you the night shines as bright as day.
Darkness and light are the same to you.13 You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
16 You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed.17 How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.
They cannot be numbered!
18 I can’t even count them;
they outnumber the grains of sand!
And when I wake up, you are still with me!19 O God, if only you would destroy the wicked!
Get out of my life, you murderers!
20 They blaspheme you;
your enemies misuse your name.
21 O Lord, shouldn’t I hate those who hate you?
Shouldn’t I despise those who oppose you?
22 Yes, I hate them with total hatred,
for your enemies are my enemies.23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
24 Point out anything in me that offends you,
and lead me along the path of everlasting life.
After I prayed and read God’s Word, my mind was renewed. Hope returned. The miracle of life was renewed and His presence settled over me. Friend, that is the only way I know to stop the painful loop.
Renewing Your Mind: Redirect, Don’t White-Knuckle
Romans 12:2 says, “Let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think.” That’s why I keep saying: it’s not about stopping the thoughts; it’s about redirecting them. Transformation doesn’t come from trying harder—it comes from surrendering your thoughts to the One who already knows them.
Psalm 139 ends with the invitation I still pray: “Search me, God… know my anxious thoughts… lead me in the way everlasting.” That’s renewal. That’s how we live the day we’re actually living, one surrendered thought at a time.
🩶 Listen to the Full Episode
For the full teaching and all the scriptures read aloud, press play below to listen to Episode 219 of The Grief Mentor Podcast:
“When Grief Replays the Hardest Moments — How to Reframe Pain With God’s Word.”
If You Want Help, I’m Here
If you want tools that help you renew your mind one thought at a time—with Scripture and the presence of God—book a 1:1 Grief Mentor Session. We’ll start exactly where you are and invite Jesus into your thoughts. Click the link in the show notes or visit thegriefmentor.com.
Friend, I know these thoughts can feel like a wave you’ll never recover from. God is already in that moment. He knows the thought before it forms, the tear before it falls, the ache before you can name it. When your mind starts to wander back to the hardest parts of your story, invite Him in. Not always to remove the pain, but to be with you in it—to bring light where darkness tries to hide.
When we bring it out of the dark and lay it at His feet, that is where renewal begins. Let that be the thought that begins your day.
