Are You Living in the Rearview Mirror?
For the last two years, I’ve spent a lot of time looking in the rearview mirror.
Looking back at what was.
Looking back at who I used to be.
Looking back at the life I thought I would still have.
Looking back at the husband I desperately wish was still here.
If I’m honest, there were days when I became so focused on what was behind me that I completely missed what God was placing in front of me.
Have you ever felt that way?
Maybe for you it’s not grief.
Maybe it’s a missed opportunity.
A broken relationship.
A dream that didn’t happen.
A chapter you wish you could go back and relive one more time.
Sometimes we become so consumed with what we’ve lost that we stop seeing what we’ve been given.
We stare into the rearview mirror so long that we forget to look through the windshield.
And that’s a dangerous place to live.
The Conversation That Changed Everything
Recently, I was having a conversation with one of my daughters in the car.
We were talking about grief.
About healing.
About moving forward.
About the tension I’ve felt since losing Quintin.
Then she said something that stopped me in my tracks.
She reminded me of two stories from Scripture.
The first was Lot’s wife.
The second was the man at the Pool of Bethesda.
I had heard both stories before.
But I had never connected them to my own life the way she did that day.
Lot’s Wife: The Danger of Looking Back
When God was rescuing Lot and his family from Sodom, they were given one simple instruction:
“Don’t look back.”
But she did.
And in a moment, she became a pillar of salt.
I’ve heard that story my entire life.
But for the first time, I wondered if I had been doing the same thing.
Not physically.
But emotionally.
Spiritually.
Living with one foot in the future and one foot constantly looking behind me.
Looking back at what I lost.
Looking back at what used to be.
Looking back at a chapter I desperately wished I could return to.
Do You Want to Be Healed?
Then my daughter reminded me of another story.
The man at the Pool of Bethesda.
For thirty-eight years, he had been unable to walk.
Thirty-eight years of disappointment.
Thirty-eight years of waiting.
Thirty-eight years of identifying himself by what was broken.
When Jesus approached him, He asked a question that seems almost strange:
“Do you want to get well?” (John 5:6)
Of course he wanted to get well… right?
But the man didn’t immediately answer yes.
Instead, he explained all the reasons he couldn’t be healed.
All the obstacles.
All the circumstances.
All the reasons things had stayed the same.
And that’s when it hit me.
Jesus wasn’t asking whether he was hurting.
Jesus already knew he was hurting.
He was asking whether he was ready for his life to change.
Whether he was willing to leave behind the identity he had carried for thirty-eight years.
Whether he was willing to trust God with a future that looked different than his past.
Then my daughter looked at me and asked:
“Mom, do you want to be healed?”
Whew.
That question landed deep.
Healing Requires Change
Because if I’m honest, healing sounds beautiful until you realize what it requires.
Healing requires change.
Healing requires movement.
Healing requires surrender.
Healing requires accepting that you can never go back to what was.
The truth is, I thought I wanted healing.
But healing started looking a lot different than I expected.
Healing looked like taking off my wedding ring.
Healing looked like learning to dance again.
Healing looked like laughing without guilt.
Healing looked like making room for joy while still carrying grief.
Healing looked like trusting God with chapters I never planned to write.
And if I’m honest, part of me wasn’t sure I wanted that.
Because somehow holding tightly to my grief felt like holding tightly to Quintin.
When Grief Becomes an Identity
And suddenly I realized something hard.
Part of me had become comfortable carrying my grief.
Not because I enjoyed it.
But because it made me feel connected to Quintin.
Somewhere along the way, holding tightly to my pain started feeling like honoring his memory.
But honoring someone and idolizing them are not the same thing.
That’s hard for me to even write.
Because I have felt this overwhelming responsibility to carry Quintin’s legacy forward.
I never want him forgotten.
I want people to know who he was.
I want people to know the impact he made.
I want people to know the man I loved.
And if I’m being completely transparent, I think there were times I made my grief an idol.
Maybe even made Quintin an idol.
That’s a difficult sentence to type.
Because I know the difference between worship and love.
But when all your focus stays fixed on what was, eventually you stop trusting God for what could be.
Honoring Someone Is Not the Same as Idolizing Them
My daughter gently reminded me:
“His legacy is still here.”
It’s in our children.
It’s in the values he taught.
It’s in the lives he impacted.
It’s in the stories we continue to tell.
It’s in the people he loved.
His legacy doesn’t disappear because I choose to heal.
And maybe that’s what God has been trying to teach me all along.
Healing doesn’t mean forgetting.
Moving forward doesn’t mean leaving someone behind.
Joy doesn’t dishonor grief.
And a new chapter doesn’t erase the one before it.
In fact, maybe the greatest way to honor God’s gifts from the past is to trust Him with the future.
God Is Doing a New Thing
Lately I’ve felt God whispering the words from Isaiah 43:
“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”
The question isn’t whether God can do something new.
The question is whether I’ll keep looking backward long enough to miss it.
Whether I’ll keep standing beside my own Pool of Bethesda explaining why healing can’t happen.
Whether I’ll keep turning around like Lot’s wife instead of walking toward where God is leading.
Jesus also said you cannot put new wine into old wineskins.
Maybe because old wineskins were never designed to hold what God is about to pour out.
And maybe neither are we.
Maybe God is asking us to release what we’ve been clinging to so He can prepare us for what comes next.
Maybe He’s asking us one simple question:
Will you trust Me with your future?
Healing Isn’t Betrayal
I don’t know exactly what the future holds.
I still miss Quintin every single day.
I still have moments when grief sneaks up on me.
I still have tears.
But for the first time in a long time, I’m beginning to understand something.
Healing isn’t betrayal.
Healing is obedience.
Trusting God with tomorrow doesn’t dishonor yesterday.
It honors the God who carried us through it.
So today I’m making a choice.
Not because it’s easy.
Not because I’m fully healed.
Not because I have all the answers.
But because I trust the One who does.
I’m choosing not to turn back.
Because God is doing a new thing.
And I don’t want to miss it.
Have you been living in the rearview mirror?
What is one thing God may be asking you to release so you can embrace the new thing He’s doing in your life?
I’d love to hear your story in the comments below. I love to read every one of them.
