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When your child went to heaven, the world saw one loss — but your heart knows it wasn’t just one.
It was friendships that faded when people didn’t know what to say.
It was family relationships that shifted when everyone grieved differently.
It was dreams, routines, and the sense of who you were before everything changed.
These are the collateral losses of grief — the quiet wreckage that most people never see.
They don’t make it into sympathy cards. They’re the silent unraveling that happens in the everyday moments: the empty chair at the table, the awkward phone call that never came, the church service that now feels foreign. But friend, God isn’t afraid of what’s been broken.
He’s right there in the middle of it — the God who rebuilds what’s been shattered and redeems what’s been lost.
Grief changes everything, but it doesn’t have the final word.
“When you go through deep waters, I will be with you.
When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown.
When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up;
the flames will not consume you.”
— Isaiah 43:2 (NLT)
There’s something powerful about that first word — when.
It doesn’t say if you go through deep waters, or if you face rivers of difficulty. It says when.
Because loss is part of living in a broken world.
And I love that this verse doesn’t paint a picture of God standing on the other side of your pain, waiting for you to pull yourself together before you come to Him.
It tells us He’s right there in the middle of it — walking beside you through the grief that takes your breath away, through the silence that feels unbearable, through the moments when you can’t even find words to pray.
Friend, that’s what makes His presence so sacred.
He doesn’t promise to remove the waters or the fire — He promises that they won’t consume you.
That’s how we survive the unthinkable. Not by holding it all together, but by holding on to the One who walks through it with us.
None of us expect the aftershocks of loss — the friendships that disappear, the energy that vanishes, the faith that suddenly feels fragile.
In the beginning, it’s pure survival. You wake up and wonder how to even start the day. But as time passes, you begin to notice everything else that’s changed.
I remember one day pulling into the driveway and stepping out of the car, completely forgetting to turn it off. It started rolling toward the garage. My husband came running out just in time to stop it. That small moment said so much about where I was — distracted, exhausted, unable to focus. I was still breathing, but I didn’t feel alive inside.
Even simple things like making dinner or going to church suddenly felt foreign. I didn’t fit anywhere anymore.
That’s the part of grief the world doesn’t talk about — how one loss ripples through every corner of your life. It changes your relationships, your faith, your very sense of identity.
But here’s what I learned: God isn’t rushing you to move on. He invites you to sit with Him and acknowledge what’s broken. Because honesty — not pretending — is where healing begins.
“But You desire honesty from the womb, teaching me wisdom even there.”
— Psalm 51:6 (NLT)
You can’t heal what you refuse to name.
Most of us recognize the obvious loss — our child — but grief has layers. Beneath the surface are losses we never expected: the friendships that faded, the family bonds that grew strained, the version of ourselves we no longer recognize.
Naming those things out loud isn’t self-pity; it’s truth-telling.
When you say, “Lord, I’ve lost so much more than I realized,” you invite Him into those spaces.
God doesn’t shame you for what hurts. He meets you there.
In The Grief Roadmap, I teach moms that until you can identify what’s broken, you can’t begin to heal it.
The blind spots in grief aren’t our failures — they’re the places where God’s mercy is waiting to be seen.
And once you name them, His light starts to touch even the darkest corners of your story.
“Then the Lord answered Job from the whirlwind:
‘Who is this that questions my wisdom with such ignorant words?’”
— Job 38:1–2 (NLT)
Job cried out for thirty-seven chapters, and God said nothing. Not a word.
If you’ve ever begged God for answers and heard only silence, you’re not alone.
When my own grief was fresh, I shouted at God more than once. I couldn’t understand why He didn’t stop what happened, why He didn’t speak. But I learned something through Job’s story — silence doesn’t mean absence.
God was listening to Job the entire time. He was listening to me, too.
And He’s listening to you right now.
When He finally spoke to Job, He didn’t condemn him — He revealed Himself.
That’s what God does. He waits until our hearts are ready to receive, then shows us things we couldn’t have seen any other way.
I like to say that was the moment I became teachable.
When I stopped trying to make sense of the pain and started surrendering it, God began to rebuild my faith — not on understanding, but on trust.
“Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”
— Philippians 3:8 (NLT)
Every grieving parent longs for things to go back to “normal.”
We say it often: I just want my life to be the way it was before.
But friend, it can’t be. Someone precious is missing. Life will never look the same — but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be beautiful.
Restoration isn’t about returning to what was.
It’s about becoming who God is shaping you to be through the pain.
It’s about discovering a deeper intimacy with Him — one that could only come through loss.
When I look back over these years without my son, I see it now. Each year brings new challenges, new layers of grief, new lessons. But it also brings new evidence of God’s faithfulness.
He has been in every moment — not erasing the pain, but redeeming it.
You don’t have to go back to who you were.
Let Him make you new. Let Him breathe life into the places that feel beyond repair.
Because one day, you’ll look back and see His fingerprints all over your story — even in the parts that once felt like ruins.
For the full teaching press play below to listen to Episode 221 of The Grief Mentor Podcast
Choose one scripture from today’s blog and carry it with you as an anchor this week.
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