Sometimes the stories that change our lives begin with a simple “no,” months of waiting, and a God who never stopped preparing our hearts.
“Can we take a picture… just in case someday we’d want to look back on it?”
That was Raymond’s idea.
We had just spent five and a half hours talking over dinner, and as we were getting ready to leave, he smiled and asked if we could take one picture before we said goodbye.
At the time, it felt like such a simple moment.
Neither of us knew what tomorrow would hold.
Neither of us knew if we’d ever see each other again.
We certainly had no idea that one ordinary picture would eventually become one of the most meaningful photos on my camera roll.
Today, every time I look at it, I don’t just remember our first date.
I remember every prayer that led me there.
Every tear.
Every sleepless night.
Every question I wrestled with.
Every moment I almost turned around.
Because the truth is…
I almost never met Raymond.
Not because he wasn’t worth getting to know.
But because I wasn’t sure my heart would ever be able to say yes to another chapter.
If you’ve walked with me over the last two years, you know that this story didn’t begin with Facebook Dating.
It didn’t begin with a first message.
It didn’t begin with a first date.
It began the day my world changed forever.
When Quintin went to Heaven, it felt like the future we had dreamed about disappeared with him.
The plans we had made.
The grandchildren we imagined.
Growing old together.
Traveling after the kids were grown.
Sitting on the porch one day, laughing about everything we’d survived together.
In one moment, all of those dreams suddenly looked different.
For a long time, I wasn’t trying to figure out what was next.
I was simply trying to survive what had happened.
Some mornings, getting out of bed felt like an accomplishment.
Some days, making dinner for my kids required every ounce of strength I had.
Some nights, after everyone else had gone to sleep, I’d sit in the quiet and wonder if life would ever feel normal again.
Grief has a way of changing everything.
It changes how you celebrate birthdays.
It changes holidays.
It changes ordinary Tuesday afternoons.
It even changes the way you think about tomorrow.
One of the hardest parts wasn’t just losing my husband.
It was losing the person who knew me better than anyone else.
The one who celebrated my victories before anyone else did.
The one who could make me laugh with nothing more than a look across the room.
The one who had been my teammate, my person since I was sixteen years old.
There is a loneliness that comes with widowhood that’s difficult to explain unless you’ve lived it.
It’s not simply the absence of another person.
It’s the absence of the life you thought you would always have.
I missed conversations that no one else would understand.
I missed hearing, “How was your day?”
I missed reaching for a hand that wasn’t there anymore.
I missed having someone who knew the history behind every story and every scar.
And if I’m honest…
There were moments when I wondered if this was simply what the rest of my life would look like.
Not because I had stopped believing in God.
But because I couldn’t imagine what another future could possibly look like.
I wasn’t asking God for another relationship.
I wasn’t asking Him to bring someone into my life.
Most days, I wasn’t even thinking that far ahead.
God was preparing me for a chapter I never would have written for myself
I was praying much simpler prayers.
“Lord… help me get through today.”
“Give me strength for my kids.”
“Help me trust You when I don’t understand.”
Looking back now, I can see that while I was asking God to help me survive…
He was quietly doing something much deeper.
He wasn’t just carrying me through my grief.
He was slowly healing places in my heart that I thought would stay broken forever.
I couldn’t see it then.
Healing rarely feels dramatic while it’s happening.
Most of the time, it looks like taking one faithful step after another.
Showing up.
Praying.
Going to church even when your heart feels heavy.
Choosing gratitude on days when sorrow feels easier.
Trusting God with questions that don’t have immediate answers.
Little by little…
Without me even realizing it…
Not by asking me to forget where I’d been.
Not by erasing the beautiful life Quintin and I shared.
But by gently reminding me that He is still the Author of every chapter of my story.
And long before I ever met Raymond…
Long before I downloaded Facebook Dating…
Long before I ever said yes to dinner…
God had already begun writing this story.
The Internal Battle
Bible Verse Esther 4:14
If you’ve never been widowed, it’s difficult to explain what happens inside your heart when someone mentions dating again.
Most people assume the hardest part is meeting someone new.
For me, that wasn’t the hardest part at all.
The hardest part was giving myself permission to even consider the possibility.
It wasn’t because I didn’t believe God could write another chapter.
It was because I loved the one He had already written so much.
I wasn’t looking for someone to replace Quintin.
No one ever could.
We had spent more than thirty years building a life together. We grew up together. We raised four incredible children together. We dreamed about becoming grandparents together. We talked about growing old together.
That kind of love doesn’t disappear because someone dies.
It simply changes.
It becomes memories.
It becomes gratitude.
It becomes grief.
And eventually, if you’ll let God work, it becomes part of the foundation that teaches you how deeply you’re capable of loving.
Long before Quintin went to Heaven, we had conversations that seemed almost impossible to have.
I remember him bringing up what life would look like if something ever happened to him.
At the time, I didn’t want to hear it.
I’d laugh it off and tell him we didn’t need to talk about things like that.
But he was intentional.
More than once, he gently told me that if something ever happened to him, he didn’t want me to spend the rest of my life alone.
He wanted me to be happy.
He wanted me to keep living.
Those conversations stayed tucked away in the back of my heart.
At the time, I couldn’t imagine ever needing them.
Years later, I found myself remembering every word.
Still…
Remembering what Quintin wanted for me and believing I could actually live it were two very different things.
There were nights I lay awake wondering what my future was supposed to look like.
I wasn’t getting any younger.
I missed companionship.
I missed having someone to laugh with.
I missed having someone to share ordinary moments with.
I missed doing life with my best friend.
Loneliness is a strange thing.
It doesn’t always show up because you’re alone.
Sometimes it shows up because the one person you long to talk to isn’t there anymore.
There were moments when I caught myself wondering…
“Is this simply how the rest of my life will be?”
Then almost immediately I’d feel guilty for even asking.
Because another voice would whisper,
“Does wanting companionship mean you’re not honoring Quintin?”
That question haunted me for a long time.
As if choosing hope somehow meant choosing to forget.
It doesn’t.
It never has.
But when you’re walking through grief, your heart doesn’t always believe what your head already knows.
Then there were my children.
More than anything, I wanted to protect them.
They had already endured the unimaginable.
The last thing I wanted was to create more pain.
Their responses couldn’t have been more different.
One child struggled deeply with the very thought that I might someday open my heart again.
Another immediately wanted me to be happy.
My older two processed everything with quiet wisdom and thoughtful questions.
None of them were wrong.
They were grieving.
And every one of them was grieving differently.
As their mom, I felt caught in the middle.
Part of me thought,
“Maybe I’ll just stay alone forever.”
Not because that’s what I truly wanted.
But because it seemed easier than risking hurting the people I loved most.
Looking back now, I realize fear was making decisions that belonged to God.
Around that same time, something unexpected happened.
My daughter and I were talking one afternoon, and somehow the conversation drifted toward Facebook Dating.
She looked at me and said,
“Mom… why don’t you just set up a profile?”
I laughed.
Actually… I think I laughed pretty hard.
“I’ve been married since I was twenty,” I told her.
“I don’t even know how dating apps work.”
The whole idea felt awkward.
Honestly, it felt a little ridiculous.
But eventually…
Almost as a dare… ( I may just decide to share more on that later, prayerfully considering anyway)
I set up a profile.
Not because I was searching.
Not because I had decided I was ready.
Not because I thought I’d meet someone.
Mostly because I assumed nothing would ever come from it.
I spent very little time on it.
In fact, if I’m honest, I found the whole experience discouraging.
It felt unnatural.
I preferred waiting on God.
I wasn’t interested in endless conversations or trying to figure out whether someone was presenting the real version of themselves.
I remember thinking,
“This just isn’t for me.”
Then one day…
I got a message.
A profile caught my attention.
His name was Raymond.
There was something refreshingly genuine about him.
He wasn’t trying to impress me.
He wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t.
Our conversations felt easy.
We talked about faith.
Family.
Life.
The things that actually mattered.
Early on, I was completely honest with him.
I told him I was a widow.
I told him I wasn’t sure I even belonged on a dating app.
I told him I preferred to trust God’s timing over algorithms.
He listened.
He understood.
And he was incredibly kind.
Then, in December, he asked if I’d let him take me to dinner.
I stared at the message.
Read it again.
And then typed the only honest answer I knew how to give.
“I’m not ready.”
Not because of him.
Because of me.
My heart still needed time.
I wasn’t trying to play hard to get.
I wasn’t asking him to wait.
I simply knew I couldn’t say yes honestly.
Most people probably would’ve disappeared after that.
Raymond didn’t.
He never pressured me.
He never tried to convince me.
He never made me feel guilty.
Instead, he simply respected where I was.
Before our conversation ended, he gave me his phone number.
He told me that if I ever felt ready someday…
I could reach out.
And then…
He let me go.
No pressure.
No constant messages.
No trying to change my mind.
Just patience.
Looking back now…
I realize that silence wasn’t the end of our story.
It was the space where God was still quietly writing it.
So thankful I kept this part of his message…
God Was Preparing My Heart Long Before I Knew It
When Raymond and I stopped talking, life simply continued.
At least, that’s what it looked like on the outside.
I kept being Mom.
I kept writing.
I kept learning.
I kept working.
I kept recording Coffee Chats.
I kept making dinners.
I kept showing up for my kids.
I kept going to church.
I kept praying.
And little by little…
God kept healing.
Not all at once.
Not through one dramatic moment.
Not because one day I woke up and suddenly decided I was “ready.”
Healing rarely works that way.
Looking back now, I realize God wasn’t changing my circumstances first.
He was changing me.
He was teaching me that my identity wasn’t found in being a wife.
It wasn’t found in being a widow.
It was found in being His daughter.
That may sound simple.
But when you’ve spent more than thirty years doing life with someone you loved deeply, learning who you are again takes time.
A lot of time.
There were days I felt strong.
There were days I felt like I was right back where I started.
Grief isn’t a straight line.
It circles back when you least expect it.
And yet…
God never stopped meeting me there.
He never rushed my healing.
He never made me feel like I should be “over it.”
He simply walked with me.
One faithful step at a time.
Could God be asking you to dance again? Read about how He asked me to dance before I was ready below.
A Conversation I’ll Never Forget
One afternoon, Ella and I were talking.
I don’t even remember exactly how the conversation started.
But somehow, we found ourselves talking about the future.
About healing.
About what life might look like someday.
And then she said something I’ll never forget.
She reminded me of Lot’s wife.
She said, “Mom… don’t become Lot’s wife.”
At first, I just looked at her.
Because I knew exactly what she meant.
She wasn’t telling me to forget her dad.
She loved her dad.
She misses him too.
She wasn’t asking me to erase our life.
She was reminding me that God doesn’t ask us to live facing backward.
He asks us to trust Him enough to keep walking forward.
Her words settled into my heart.
Not because they answered every question.
But because they gently challenged something fear had been whispering to me for a long time.
Fear kept saying,
“If you move forward, you’re leaving Quintin behind.”
God kept saying,
“You can carry love with you while still following Me into what’s next.”
Those are two very different voices.
I’m thankful I listened to the right One.
Need some encouragement not to turn back? Check out this blog post for encouragement.
➡️ Don’t Turn Back: God Is Doing a New Thing
The Morning Everything Felt Different
Months passed.
Then eventually…
I reached back out to Raymond.
This time, I said yes.
Not because every fear had disappeared.
Not because I suddenly had every answer.
But because for the first time…
Peace was becoming louder than fear.
The morning of our first date, I woke up with butterflies.
Not the exciting kind.
The nervous kind.
I stood in front of my closet wondering if I should even go.
I had been married since I was twenty and dated the same man since I was 16 years old.
This wasn’t just another dinner.
It was my first first date in more than thirty years.
I remember taking a picture while I was getting ready.
When I look at that photo now, I smile.
But if I’m honest…
Behind that smile was a woman asking God one more time…
“Lord… am I doing the right thing?”
Then something happened that stopped me in my tracks.
As I was getting ready, a Reel appeared in my feed.
It was from another widow.
She talked about moving forward.
About trusting God.
About not living life constantly looking over your shoulder.
About believing that another chapter doesn’t erase the one that came before it.
I don’t remember every word she said.
But I remember exactly how it made me feel.
It felt like encouragement arriving at exactly the right moment.
I don’t believe God speaks only through dramatic moments.
Sometimes He gently reminds us of truth through the right person at the right time.
That afternnoon…
That Reel reminded me that healing wasn’t betrayal.
It reminded me that saying yes to dinner wasn’t saying goodbye to Quintin.
It was simply saying yes to whatever God had for today.
And for some reason…
That gave me peace.
If you need some encouragement to see if you can potentially love again, take a moment to read below…
➡️ Can You Love Again After Losing Your Spouse?
Then There Was the Cardinal
Just before I left for dinner, something happened that made me pause.
A cardinal flew into my window.
If you’ve followed my story for very long, you know cardinals have become meaningful to me over the years.
Not because I believe every cardinal carries a message from Heaven.
But because they’ve often reminded me to stop, breathe, and remember God’s faithfulness.
Could it have simply been a bird?
Absolutely.
But in that moment, it caused me to pause.
It reminded me of every single time God had carried me before.
Every prayer He had answered.
Every day He had given me enough strength for.
Every moment He had remained faithful when I couldn’t see what He was doing.
So before I grabbed my keys…
I stopped.
I prayed.
Not for a perfect date.
Not for instant certainty.
Not even for butterflies.
I prayed for peace.
I remember saying something like…
“Lord…
If this isn’t from You…
close the door.
But if it is…
help me trust You enough to walk through it.”
Looking back…
I think that’s one of the biggest prayers of my healing journey.
Because I wasn’t asking God to remove every fear before I obeyed.
I was asking Him to help me trust Him while I was still afraid.
That’s what faith often looks like.
Not having all the answers.
Just taking the next faithful step.
One Dinner… Five and a Half Hours
As I pulled out of my driveway that afternoon, I took one last deep breath.
I remember gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than normal.
Part of me wanted to turn around.
Not because I didn’t want to meet Raymond.
Because I knew that saying yes to this dinner represented something much bigger.
It meant I was trusting God with a part of my heart that had been broken in ways I never imagined possible.
I wasn’t driving to meet “a man.”
I was driving toward a future I had spent two years believing might never exist.
The drive felt long.
Not because of the miles…
But because of everything running through my mind.
“Lord… what if I’m making a mistake?”
“What if I’m not really ready?”
“What if I disappoint my kids?”
“What if I disappoint myself?”
And then I remembered the prayer I’d been praying all morning.
Not for certainty.
Not for butterflies.
Not even for this date to become anything.
Just for peace.
So somewhere along that drive, I prayed one more time.
“Lord…
If this isn’t from You…
please close the door.
But if it is…
give me the courage to trust You one step at a time.”
Looking back now, I smile when I think about that prayer.
Because God didn’t answer it by giving me absolute certainty.
He answered it by giving me enough peace to keep driving.
Sometimes that’s all He gives us.
Not the whole roadmap.
Just enough light for the next step.
And that was enough.
A Dinner That Didn’t Feel Like a First Date
I’ll never forget parking, Raymond meeting me in the parking lot and walking me to our table at the restaurant.
I expected awkward introductions.
Uncomfortable silence.
Small talk.
Maybe thirty or forty-five minutes before we both politely headed home.
Instead…
We sat down.
Started talking.
And somehow…
Never really stopped.
We talked about our faith.
Not because either of us was trying to impress the other.
But because that’s genuinely who we are.
We talked about our children.
The joys.
The challenges.
The lessons they’ve taught us.
We talked about life.
The unexpected turns neither of us planned.
The ways God had remained faithful even when life didn’t make sense.
We laughed.
More than I expected.
There wasn’t pressure.
There wasn’t pretending.
There wasn’t the feeling that either of us needed to perform or say the perfect thing.
It simply felt…
Comfortable.
Looking back now, I think one of the first things that stood out to me was how well Raymond listened.
Not the kind of listening where someone is simply waiting for their turn to speak.
The kind of listening that makes you feel seen.
He asked thoughtful questions.
He remembered details.
He cared about the answers.
After walking through grief, that kind of kindness feels incredibly safe.
Time somehow disappeared.
At one point I remember glancing around the restaurant and realizing we’d been there much longer than I thought.
Then I looked at the time.
Five and a half hours.
FIVE AND A HALF HOURS!
I honestly couldn’t believe it.
We hadn’t planned to stay that long.
Neither of us seemed interested in leaving.
Not because there were fireworks.
Not because it felt like some movie scene.
Because the conversation was simply that easy.
And after carrying so much heaviness for so long…
Easy felt like a true gift.
The Picture That Almost Didn’t Happen
SELFIE DINNER (BELOW)
As we walked outside that evening, Raymond smiled and said something I’ll never forget.
“Can we take a picture…
just in case someday we’d want to look back on it?”
I laughed.
It felt sweet.
Simple.
Completely unexpected.
So we stood there together…
And took one picture.
At the time, it was just a selfie.
Nothing more.
Neither of us knew what tomorrow would bring.
Neither of us knew if we’d ever take another picture together.
Neither of us knew we’d eventually be sharing that picture with all of you.
But God knew.
When I look at that photo today, I don’t just see two people smiling after dinner.
I see a widow who almost stayed home.
I see months of prayers.
I see countless tears.
I see conversations with my children.
I see God’s patience.
I see His faithfulness.
I see a God who never rushed my healing.
A God who never abandoned me in my loneliness.
A God who patiently prepared my heart one small step at a time.
That picture isn’t special because it’s the first picture Raymond and I ever took together.
It’s special because it reminds me of everything God had already done before the iphone camera ever clicked.
What I Realized Driving Home
As I drove home that night, I wasn’t thinking,
“I met the man I’m going to marry.”
Honestly…
I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.
I was simply overwhelmed by gratitude.
Gratitude that I had gone.
Gratitude that God had given me peace.
Gratitude that saying yes to one dinner hadn’t felt like saying goodbye to the life I had shared with Quintin.
Instead…
It felt like honoring God’s invitation to keep living.
To keep trusting.
To keep believing that He wasn’t finished writing my story.
And for the first time in a very long time…
The future didn’t feel quite so frightening.
This Was Never Really a Story About Dating
As I look back over the last two years, I realize something now that I couldn’t see while I was living it.
I thought God was asking me to survive.
Instead…
He was teaching me how to trust Him again.
Trust Him when I couldn’t see tomorrow.
Trust Him when the house felt painfully quiet.
Trust Him when I questioned whether joy would ever feel real again.
Trust Him when my children and I were learning how to rebuild a life none of us had chosen.
And eventually…
Trust Him enough to believe He might still have beautiful things waiting ahead.
For a long time, I thought moving forward meant leaving Quintin behind.
Now I understand something very different.
Moving forward doesn’t erase love.
It honors it.
It says,
“I was loved so well that I know love is worth believing in.”
I will always love Quintin.
There will never be a day that changes.
He will always be part of my story.
He helped shape the woman I am today.
He gave me four incredible children.
He showed me what faithful, sacrificial love looks like.
Nothing….not time, not healing, not another relationship…will ever erase that.
And because of that foundation, I can step into tomorrow with gratitude instead of guilt.
That may be one of the greatest lessons God has taught me.
Grief and gratitude can live in the same heart.
Love and hope can exist together.
Honoring your past and embracing your future are not opposites.
Sometimes they’re exactly how God writes redemption.
When I shared that first picture of Raymond and me, so many of you celebrated with us.
Others quietly sent messages saying,
“I’m not there yet.”
Can I tell you something?
That’s okay.
Healing isn’t a race.
There isn’t a calendar that tells you when it’s time.
There isn’t a finish line where grief suddenly disappears.
Everyone’s journey is different.
If you’re still surviving today…
Keep taking the next faithful step.
If you’re still crying…
God isn’t disappointed in your tears.
If you’re wondering whether He could ever bring joy back into your life…
Please don’t lose heart.
He isn’t finished writing your story either.
Maybe your next chapter won’t look like mine.
Maybe it won’t involve another relationship at all.
But I do believe this with all my heart…
God is still in the business of bringing beauty from ashes.
Sometimes that beauty looks like restored hope.
Sometimes it looks like renewed purpose.
Sometimes it looks like peace after years of anxiety.
Sometimes it simply looks like waking up one morning and realizing you smiled without feeling guilty.
Whatever your next chapter looks like…
Don’t stop believing that God is already preparing you for it.
Long before I ever met Raymond…
God was preparing my heart.
And maybe…
Just maybe…
He’s preparing yours too.
Before You Go…
If this story encouraged you, would you do me a favor?
I’d love for you to leave a comment below.
Tell me where you’re reading from, or simply share one word that describes the season you’re in right now.
Maybe it’s…
Hope.
Waiting.
Healing.
Grief.
Faith.
You never know how your story might encourage someone else scrolling through the comments.
And if you know someone who has experienced loss or is wondering if God could ever write another beautiful chapter in their life, I hope you’ll share this with them.
Sometimes the greatest gift we can give another person is simply reminding them they aren’t walking alone.
What’s Next…
One thing I’ve learned over the last few days is that so many of you have questions.
How did my kids respond?
What made Raymond different?
Why did I decide to try Facebook Dating?
How did I know I was finally ready—or at least ready enough—to say yes to dinner?
I’ve been reading your comments, messages, and emails, and I’m so grateful you’ve trusted me with your own stories.
So in my next blog, I’m going to answer the questions you’ve been asking most and share some of the lessons I’ve learned while navigating dating after twenty five years of marriage (over thirty together) and the loss of my husband.
Because if there’s one thing this journey has taught me, it’s this:
We heal best when we know we’re not walking alone.
I hope you’ll come back and join me for the next chapter.
❤️
The first selfie Raymond and I took together.
After talking for five and a half hours, Raymond smiled and said, “Can we take a picture… just in case someday we’d want to look back on it?”
At the time, neither of us knew what God was writing.
Today, I look at that picture and smile…not because it marks the beginning of our relationship, but because it reminds me of the God who patiently prepared my heart long before I ever said yes to dinner.
There is one part of this story I haven’t shared yet. One conversation that changed everything. And one question so many of you have been asking. I’ll share that in my next blog.
🔗 Internal Links for those who may be walking a similar path:
Continue the journey of Encouragement:
Can You Love Again After Losing Your Spouse? I’d Like You to Meet Raymond
Don’t Turn Back: God Is Doing a New Thing
Hope
I’m divorced. which feels like a death. ive been stuck 16 years wondering if The Lord will help me be able to step into another relationship? ive enjoyed watching you and Q s relationship and laughter and I remember crying so hard hearing the grief in your voice after his passing. i was shocked. and hurt with you. im sooo happy of your new steps in life. ive enjoyed hearing about your journey. and I wonder if I will ever have my person? or is being single my future? its been 16 years single and its sad and lonesome but i trust God.
Ive enjoyed YOUR JOURNEY. IT GIVES ME HOPE!
Angelia, thank you for sharing this with me. 🤍 Sixteen years is a long time to carry that wondering and loneliness, and I can only imagine how many times you’ve asked God what He has planned for you.
One thing I’m learning in my own journey is that we don’t always get to see the whole story while God is writing it. I never expected my life to look the way it does today, and I certainly couldn’t have planned the timing of any of it.
Keep trusting Him, keep living the life in front of you, and don’t be afraid to leave room for God to surprise you. Whether He brings someone into your life or has something completely different ahead, your story is still being written. I’m so thankful that sharing mine has given you a little hope. Praying for you, friend. 🤍
Lori. I haven’t dated in 10 years. I got on fb dating site and I didn’t know what to believe or what was just embellished. and when your new on.that site you get bombarded with men. i guess it’s the new Pic thing. did any of that happen to you? I’m sure it did. it was so overwhelming I got off the site. maybe i just have trust issues. I didn’t see a Raymond Raymond that’s forsure. someone safe to just meet for 1 dinner no expectations. plus extremely handsome and classy. I just can’t believe you met on fb dating. and you somehow trusted what he was saying. look at u now. beautiful couple. you look made for each other.
Hi Lori, I saw one of your posts shortly after my husband died in March of ‘24. We were married 38 years. Your posts were exactly what I was feeling and still am! I’m happy for you and I pray God sends me peace and guidance and that I am open to whatever he has planned.
Love following you!
I have been following you for many years. I have loved everything about Crazy Busy Mama. My heart ached for you when Q died. I know all to well what losing a husband suddenly feels like. Jason and I started dating at 16, married at 22 and together for 30 years when I lost him to suicide in October of ’23. We raised three amazing boys that are now 24, 21 and 17. When I started dating last year we all had conversations about it and they too all had different emotions and responses. I did a lot of praying and talking to God. I have now been dating someone for a little over a year. While he will never take Jason’s place in my heart, it is a great feeling to get a message asking how my day is going again, have someone to listen on the hard days and just being encouraging. With all that being said I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your path of grief with us. It’s helps to know your not alone in this chapter. I wish you and Raymond all the best.
Shana, thank you so much for sharing this with me. 🤍 My heart hurts for you and your boys. Thirty years of life and love with Jason is a story that will always be part of who you are, and I’m so sorry for the way you lost him.
I also really appreciate you sharing the part about your boys having different emotions when you started dating again. That is something I understand so deeply — grief looks different for every person in a family, and there is so much prayer, patience and grace involved when you begin taking those next steps.
And yes… having someone simply ask how your day was, listen when it’s hard, or remind you that you don’t have to carry everything alone can feel like such a gift after loss. It doesn’t replace the person we loved. It’s simply allowing ourselves to live and love in this new chapter.
Thank you for walking alongside me and for sharing your story so another widow reading this might feel a little less alone. I’m praying for continued peace and happiness for you, your boys and this new season of your life. 🤍
LORI, YOUR JOURNEY IS INSPIRING! WATCHING YOU MOVE IN FAITH AND ABSOLUTE TRUST IN GOD LEAVES ME IN AWE!! I TOO HAVE LOST SOMEONE AND IT BROKE ME! FEELS LIKE MY HEART SHATTERED INTO A MILLION PIECES THAT I AM SOMEHOW TRYING TO FIND A WAY TO PIECE BACK TOGETHER. IT HAS BEEN 6 YEARS BUT FEELS LIKE YESTERDAY! I AM WORKING SO HARD TO BE FAITHFUL AND TRUSTING IN GOD’S PLAN AND NOT MY OWN. AS I KNOW MY WAY FALLS SHORT EVERY TIME! FOLLOWING YOUR JOURNEY MAKES ME TOO BELIEVE THAT MY LIFE WILL FALL INTO THE PLACE ITS MEANT TO BE WHEN GOD IS READY FOR THAT TO HAPPEN. IN THE MEAN TIME I WILL CONTINUE TO WORK ON MYSELF WITH GOD’S HELP OF COURSE. I WILL CONTINUE TO WATCH AND FOLLOW YOUR JOURNEY AS IT IS TEACHING ME TO KEEP THE FAITH AND REMAIN FAITHFUL AND TRUST IN GOD AND HIS PLAN AND PROCESS IN MY OWN JOURNEY! THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH FOR SHARING YOUR STORY AS THEY ARE TRUELY A BLESSING!
Cindy, thank you so much for this. 🤍 Six years can pass and grief can still have a way of making certain moments feel like yesterday. I think that’s one of the hardest things to explain unless you’ve lived it.
What you said about trusting God’s plan instead of your own really spoke to me, because that has been such a huge part of my journey too. I’m learning that faith doesn’t mean we understand the timing — sometimes it simply means continuing to take the next step while trusting that He sees what we cannot.
Please keep giving yourself grace as God continues to work in you and through you. You don’t have to have your whole life figured out today. Keep growing, keep trusting, keep living, and leave room for God to surprise you with what He still has ahead.
Thank you for walking alongside me and for sharing your heart. It means more than you know to hear that my story is helping you hold onto hope. 🤍
I’m so happy for you and Raymond.
I am/was a widow. I have remarried and have a good guy. He has actually help shape me into a better person.
No one can understand what you go through when you become a widow. So many emotions, questions, grief that is always with you even when you remarry. You can love what was and what is. I’m thankful God was with me.
Teresa, thank you so much for sharing this. 🤍 I love how you said, “You can love what was and what is.” That is exactly what I’m learning too.
Loving someone in a new season doesn’t erase the love, memories, or life we shared before. Those things will always be part of us. It simply means our hearts are still capable of growing, healing and making room for what God has ahead.
I’m so happy you’ve found someone who has been good to you and helped you grow. Thank you for reminding other widows that moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting — it means continuing to live. 🤍
Lori, I started following you right before your husband passed. I remember finding out what it happened and my heart age for you and your children this past year 2025 I lost my husband in 48 years. I was so blessed to have my children help me through my journey with grief. And I’m so happy for you and Raymond.
Sharon, thank you for being here and for sharing your story with me. I’m so sorry you’ve had to walk this road too. I know how much our children can become part of carrying us through those impossible days. Thank you for your kindness toward me and Raymond, too. It truly means more than you know. ❤️
Faith! I’ve been with my husband since I was 16! We live in Tn. I started following Crazy busy moma right before Q went to Heaven. My husband has been battling cancer for a year now and God is with us always. We just have to keep calling out to him. 🙌❤️🙏
Lynn, I’m praying for you and your husband. Being together since you were 16 is such a beautiful testimony of a lifetime shared. I love what you said—God is with us always. Keep calling out to Him and taking this journey one day at a time. Sending you both so much love and prayer. ❤️🙏
Love following you .I’ve just lost my 2nd husband in 3 years .At 77 I don’t think I’ll be interested in moving on in another relationship .But I am so happy for you .You both seem perfect for one another !
Sharon, my heart goes out to you. Two tremendous losses in three years is so much for one heart to carry. There is absolutely no timeline or expectation for what moving forward is supposed to look like. Thank you for being so gracious and happy for me in the middle of your own grief. Sending you so much love. ❤️
Reading your story reminded me to trust a little more and keep opening up to God. I’ve been happily married for 26 years now, but life can still get heavy. Losing loved ones happens more often as we grow older, making us question the here and now. Thank you so much for sharing your story and, quite frankly, for just being you! I know Q is looking down from heaven smiling.
Eileen, thank you so much for this. ❤️ I love what you said about continuing to trust and open ourselves up to God, because I think that’s something we have to choose again and again in every season of life. Loss certainly changes the way we look at the here and now, and it has reminded me just how precious this life and the people we love truly are. And your words about Q touched my heart more than you know. Thank you for continuing to walk alongside me and for loving me through all the different chapters of this journey. ❤️🙏
I’ve been a follower for a long time and I love to see you healing and growing. May God bless you and your family. ❤️
Meghan, thank you so much for being here and for walking alongside me for so long. ❤️ Your encouragement means more than you know. I’m incredibly grateful for the healing and growth God continues to bring, even in seasons I never would have chosen. God bless you and your family too.
Thank you so much for posting this. My husband passed Jan 2025 from cancer. I think I was meant to read this. My husband told me the same that he didn’t want me to be lonely.
I downloaded a Christian dating app, on a whim, I’ve been talking to an amazing man many hours away. Your story gives me so much hope. I feel everything you shared. Thank you for using your platform. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m grateful that God has allowed me open up again.
Thank you so much for sharing this with me. ❤️ I’m so sorry for the loss of your husband. What you said about him telling you he didn’t want you to be lonely really touched me, because I understand how meaningful those words can become later. I love that you’re allowing yourself to be open without needing to know exactly where it will lead. Sometimes that feels like such a huge step in itself. I’m praying God gives you peace, wisdom and discernment as you continue getting to know this man and discover what this next chapter might hold. ❤️🙏
Lori,
Thank you for being so honest and vulnerable. I lost my soulmate and only boyfriend Don on Dec 30, just 7 months ago. Most days I feel forever broken. I just miss him so much. I know I work to get through my days, we were married for 49 years. To get like you and Q we created a beautiful family , 2 daughters and a son. We have 3 grandaughters, a grandson and 4 grand pups. This experience has tested my faith but I still hand on that one day I will be reunited with Don.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Debbie, my heart goes out to you. Forty-nine years is a lifetime of memories, routines, family and love woven together, so seven months is incredibly fresh. ❤️ I understand that feeling of simply trying to get through the days while missing your person so deeply. Hold onto your faith and give yourself so much grace in this season. You don’t have to know what the future looks like yet. I’m praying God meets you right where you are and carries you one day at a time. Thank you for trusting me with a piece of your story. ❤️🙏