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.
I’m six months into widowhood. My 42 year old husband passed away from sudden cardiac arrest in his sleep. The whole experience was very traumatic and painful. Some days I didn’t think I was going to make it myself. I found out two weeks after he passed that he had been talking to and sending money to an old girlfriend. I don’t know if it got physical and didn’t really want to know. He had also been buying pornographic photos from some random girl on Facebook. It didn’t change my hurt or my grief, but I was angry and will never get closer from it. I have been talking to a very nice man the hard couple of weeks. I feel guilty and sometimes feel I may not be ready. (Looking back) what if I let a wonderful man go. We all know a good man is few and far between these days. Just wondering if you have any words of advice or thoughts on it? Thank you.
Shelley, my heart just aches reading your story. ❤️ Six months is such a short time, and on top of losing your husband, you’ve had to process painful discoveries that no wife should ever have to face. That’s an incredibly heavy burden.
One thing I’ve learned is that grief and betrayal can exist together. You can deeply miss the life you thought you had while also grieving the truth that came to light. Both feelings are valid.
As for the kind man you’ve been talking to, my advice would simply be this: don’t let fear make the decision for you. You don’t have to rush into anything, but you also don’t have to close the door because of someone else’s choices. A good man shouldn’t have to pay for another man’s mistakes.
Keep bringing it to God. He’ll make your next step clear when it’s time. There is no deadline, and there is no “right” timeline. I’ll be praying for wisdom, healing, and peace as you navigate this season. ❤️
Thank you so much for your sweet testimony and story. it will be 10 years on 9-11 since the love of my life passed away and yes I’m so looking back. Thank you for showing me that I need to be looking out the windshield. I do pray that some day I can be where you are. I’ll soon be 78 and I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for a new love but maybe a sweet friendship to share the remainder of my life with. My husband told me to find someone and not to live my life alone. He did not want me to be alone the rest of my life. I was 67 when he passed away. He was 12 years older than me and we had been married 44 years and it was a great marriage with a godly relationship. you have certainly given me some good food for thought. You have raised a brilliant daughter to see what I could not see. Yes, I look back with find memories but I know that there is a future. I’ll look forward to see what God has in store for me. At the present I think he had given me a passion to help a much older widow with her needs since she does not drive. I have what’s had a passion for the elderly and the desire to help wherever one needs me. Yes, I know there is room for a friend for companionship if I will open my heart and let God have his way. However, if there isn’t, I’m happy serving God in whatever way he wants to use me. Thankfully, I have been able to laugh and be with great Christian friends from my church and Sunday School Class that have been my support group for the past 10 years. Thank you again for sharing your story and, than you daughter for such wisdom. may God bless you and your family and your future.
My husband and I were 13 years apart. I lost him suddenly 5 years ago next week. We would be celebrating our 41st wedding anniversary in September.I just read lori’s column, and I’m sitting here bawling my eyes out. I’m so lonely for my husband I talk to him all the time, I miss him so so much. My kids moved far away a year after he passed
So the struggle of loneliness is real
As I’m reading your story, I was 59 when I lost my husband he was 13 years my senior and my soulmate. We were engaged a month after we met.
I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t even know how I’ve made it this far. Well, yes, I do. My faith in God is the only thing that’s got me through.
Anita, thank you for sharing your heart with me. ❤️ My eyes filled with tears reading your comment because I know that loneliness all too well. Losing your soulmate changes every part of life, and anniversaries have a way of bringing everything back to the surface.
I love that you said your faith in God is what has carried you. I truly believe that’s what has carried me too. It doesn’t take away the pain, but it gives us hope when we don’t know how to take another step.
I’ll be praying for you as your anniversary approaches. May God wrap His arms around you and remind you that He is still writing your story. Thank you for trusting me with yours. ❤️
Vesta, thank you so much for sharing your beautiful heart with me. ❤️ Ten years is a long journey, and I love the hope in your words.
What touched me most is what your husband told you—that he didn’t want you to live the rest of your life alone. What a selfless gift of love that was.
Whether God leads you to a new relationship someday or simply blesses you with meaningful friendships, I pray He continues to fill your life with His peace and purpose. And thank you for mentioning the windshield. Sometimes we all need that reminder to keep looking ahead instead of only in the rearview mirror.
I’m so grateful you took the time to encourage me.
Thank you for sharing your heart Lori. I am truly sorry for your loss. Today marks 7 years since Paul went to be with Jesus. I miss him so. His passing was the hardest day of my life. I wasn’t sure how I’d go on … what to do now? I was his caregiver as well as he was disabled due to a stroke in 2015. His passing though was understood as he was so ill. Two years later our son Taylor was killed in by a drunk driver. That one rocked my world, shook my faith but praise God didn’t destroy it. They are both enjoying the wonders of Heaven, and as much as I miss them, wouldn’t want to drag them back to this mess for anything! I cried out to the Lord after losing Taylor “ Why did you take my son, when you just took my husband?!!” I remembered a story on our local Christian radio station how a mother had those same questions after losing her young daughter. She felt Hod answered and said He did not take Harper but He did receive her. What a picture that is of our Heavenly Father with His arms open wide ready to receive our loved ones?? I have to purpose to choose joy over sadness. Being sad and keeping to myself in sorrow does not bring tg back but only makes me miserable, and I have family here that needs me…two daughters and a son in law plus two grands I love dearly. Mom is a widow now too so I promised daddy my brother and I would take care of mom. Everyone says how strong I am , or how I do this every day and the truth is I don’t…you don’t.,, but God. Praying for you in whatever “ new” season He leads you and your family in. Blessings!💕
Stephanie, thank you for trusting me with such a deeply personal part of your story. ❤️ My heart absolutely aches for everything you’ve walked through. Losing your husband is devastating, and then to lose your son as well… I can’t even begin to imagine that depth of grief.
Your words, “The truth is I don’t… but God does,” really touched me. I think that’s where so many of us find ourselves. We don’t have the strength on our own, but God faithfully carries us through the days we never thought we’d survive.
Thank you for reminding us that choosing joy doesn’t mean we stop missing the people we love. It simply means we choose to trust the One who is walking with us until we see them again.
I’ll be praying for you, your mom, and your entire family. Thank you for encouraging me and for being such a beautiful example of enduring faith. I’m so grateful you’re here. ❤️
Thank you so much for responding. You are always such an inspiration. I only pray that one day I can reach the point you are at. I find it hard to share my feelings with anyone always feeling it would be considered complaining as so many others have gone through what may be perceived as sadder and worse experiences. That and feeling the thoughts jumbled up in my head would not make any sense coming out. I thank you for your continued inspiration.
Pam, thank you for your honesty. Please don’t ever feel like your feelings are “too much” or that someone else has had it worse. Pain isn’t a competition, and your story matters. Sometimes the first step toward healing is simply letting someone else know how you’re really doing. I’ll be praying that God continues to give you the courage to share your heart and surrounds you with people who will listen with grace. Thank you for being here. ❤️
I completely relate to this.
Be kind and patient with those who grieve, because everyone does it differently. There is no written prescription to fix it, heal it, or get over it. Instead, it is a journey everyone goes through at some point. It changes who you are. The version of you that existed before is gone. Watching someone grieve is like sitting next to a caterpillar inside a cocoon, squirming in pain as every part of their little body changes. You can’t force them to come out before they are done; it would kill them. But you can sit with them, listen, and give them a glass of water.
It takes Time AND a Choice to make it through the valley of death’s shadow, to move forward, and to rebuild life (in the physical world and in your brain) after the loss of a spouse.
– Time: I’ve learned that the longer you’ve been married, the more time it takes to walk in the valley of grief, sorrow, piles of messy paperwork, and all that the shadow of death brings with it. How embedded someone is in your life, as a cornerstone of who you are in your brain and physically in this world, ties into how much time it takes to be unraveled like a sweater before you can begin reknitting who you are. My friend, who is a grief counselor, said she’s noticed it takes about a year for every ten years that a person has been married. I have started year three after 30-years of marriage, and I’m starting to see light again. It shocked me the first time I laughed at a Christmas party. I didn’t think I would again.
– Choices: I feel like God has put breadcrumbs out for me to follow through the valley of the shadow of death. As I’ve moved forward, he’s put a person, group, event, or thing in front of me to see, do, or meet. They have kept me moving forward.
Thank you, Lori, for being one of those breadcrumbs!
Teresa, thank you for taking the time to write this. ❤️ Your words are incredibly wise, and I know they’ll encourage so many others who read them. I especially loved your description of grief being like a caterpillar in a cocoon—it takes time, and no one can rush the transformation. That imagery will stay with me. Thank you for reminding us that healing isn’t about “getting over it,” but about learning to carry our love and loss as God gently rebuilds us. I’m so grateful you shared your heart, and I’m praying God continues to lead you with those same breadcrumbs of hope. Thank you for walking this journey with me. 🤍🙏