Holding Someone’s Hand Again
I never imagined one picture of someone holding my hand would feel so significant.
Not because of the photograph itself…
But because of everything it represents.
Two years ago, I never believed I’d hold anyone’s hand again.
When my husband, Quintin, died, I honestly thought that chapter of my life had ended forever.
Not just dating.
Not just marriage.
But believing my heart would ever be capable of opening again.
For a long time, I assumed the hardest part would be meeting someone.
It wasn’t.
The hardest part was believing I could ever let people see that chapter of my life.
There were so many fears.
The fear of disappointing people.
The fear of comments.
The fear of what others would think.
The fear of how my children would feel.
The fear of my mother-in-law.
The fear of people confusing healing with forgetting.
The fear of being accused of “moving on.”
The fear of wondering if I was honoring Quintin well.
The fear of opening my heart again.
The fear of…
“What if it doesn’t work?”
But somewhere along the way, God gently revealed something to me.
The fear was never really about letting everyone else know.
The fear was allowing myself to believe that maybe…
Just maybe…
God still had something beautiful ahead.
That realization changed everything.
Because loving again doesn’t erase a love story.
It honors it.
I learned how to love so deeply because of the life Quintin and I shared together.
Nothing will ever replace that. Nothing ever could.
In fact, one of the hardest steps in my healing journey was making the decision to take off my wedding ring.
It wasn’t about letting go of Quintin—it was about trusting that my identity, my hope, and my future were ultimately in Christ.
(If you haven’t read that part of my journey, you can read it here: Why I Finally Took Off My Wedding Ring After Losing My Husband.)
If anything, loving him so well taught me what faithful love looks like.
That gift didn’t end when his life on earth ended.
It became part of who I am.
Is It Okay to Be Happy Again After Losing Your Spouse?
A few weeks ago, I shared a blog called “The Guilt of Being Happy Again.”
At the time, many people probably thought I was simply writing about learning to smile again after loss.
In many ways, I was.
But if I’m honest…
I was also quietly writing about this.
Because long before I ever held someone’s hand again, I had to wrestle with whether I even believed I was allowed to.
Grief has a way of convincing us that joy somehow dishonors the people we’ve lost.
That if we laugh too hard…
Smile too often…
Dream again…
Or love again…
We’re somehow leaving them behind.
But there was another layer of guilt I didn’t recognize until much later.
It wasn’t just about me.
It was about my children.
Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that maybe staying alone for the rest of my life was somehow the greatest gift I could give them.
If I never opened my heart again…
They would never have to adjust.
Never have to wonder where they fit.
Never have to share their mom.
Never have to navigate another relationship.
Never have to risk being hurt again.
I somehow believed my loneliness protected them.
Looking back now, I realize I wasn’t trusting God.
I was trying to protect everyone by carrying a burden He never asked me to carry.
Because while I believed staying lonely somehow honored Quintin and protected my children…
I was also praying almost daily that God would bring strong, godly men into my children’s lives.
Men who would mentor my boys.
Men who would encourage them.
Men who would point them toward Christ.
I desperately wanted that for them.
I just never imagined God might ask me to trust Him enough to allow someone into our lives too.
That realization changed me.
I began to realize my children didn’t need a mother who stayed stuck because she was afraid of the future.
They needed to see a mother who trusted God enough to keep living.
A mother who chose joy again.
A mother who believed devastating loss didn’t get the final word.
The greatest way we honor the people we love isn’t by remaining frozen in the moment we lost them.
It’s by living the life they would have wanted for us.
Choosing joy doesn’t diminish our grief.
It magnifies the love they poured into us.
Because the people who loved us most would never want us to stop living.
They would want us to keep laughing.
Keep dreaming.
Keep serving.
Keep loving.
The love they gave us was never meant to end with them.
It was meant to continue through us.
Love isn’t a limited resource.
Our hearts were created with the capacity to grieve deeply…
And still love deeply.
Those two things can exist together.
Can God Restore Hope After Losing Your Husband?
Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking God,
“Why did this happen?”
And started asking,
“Lord… what are You still writing?”
That changed everything.
Today, this picture isn’t a declaration that I have all the answers.
It isn’t a promise that I know exactly how every chapter ends.
It’s simply a testimony that the God who carried me through the darkest valley of my life is still writing my story.
This picture isn’t just about a relationship.
It’s about hope.
It’s about discovering that healing doesn’t mean forgetting.
It means believing God is still faithful.
The hand I’m holding matters.
It represents courage.
It represents healing.
It represents trusting God with a chapter I never thought I’d have the opportunity to write.
And one day, when the time feels right, I’ll share more about that story too.
But today…
Today is about something even bigger.
Today is about the God who gently took my hand when I thought my story was over…
And reminded me that He wasn’t finished writing.
I don’t know exactly what tomorrow holds.
I don’t know where this road leads.
I don’t know what every future chapter looks like.
But for the first time in a very long time…
I’m not afraid to turn the page.
A few weeks ago I shared that healing sometimes means refusing to keep looking in the rearview mirror. In Don’t Turn Back, I talked about how God doesn’t ask us to forget our past—He asks us to trust Him with our future.
Because after everything I’ve walked through, I’ve learned this:
I may not know what tomorrow holds…
But I know Who holds my tomorrow.
And that is enough.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll share more of what brought me to this place—including a conversation with my mom before she passed and something Quintin left behind that gave me permission to keep living.
Those moments changed me forever.
And one day, when the time feels right, I’ll share more about the hand in this picture.
But today isn’t about introducing a person.
Today is about introducing hope.
Not replacing.
It’s believing God may still be writing another beautiful chapter.
If you’re reading this today wondering if your story ended the day your heart broke…
Can I gently remind you?
The Author of your story hasn’t finished writing yet.
And maybe…
Just maybe…
He’s writing another chapter for you too.
And you too will learn how to Dance Again
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I thought staying lonely honored the people I loved.
God showed me that living fully honors them even more.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I am so happy for you Lori! Taking Tuesday out for a drive in the beautiful hills of Missouri sounds like a lovely date. You are helping so many women move in a new direction.
Our stories have similar threads throughout
I was married later to a boy I loved when I was 6. After we were married for 2 years he died due to complications after thyroid cancer.
I had a 9 month old and was pregnant at the time.
I have remarried since then but my story with Clayton didn’t end it just carried forward.
I’m still learning to live again and find joy everyday. But as you said God is always so good and He is not done writing our stories
Steph, thank you so much for sharing your story. ❤️ You’ve walked a road that so few truly understand, and your words encourage me more than you know. I love what you said—that your story with Clayton didn’t end, it carried forward. What a beautiful reminder that love isn’t replaced; it simply becomes part of who we are. Thank you for reminding all of us that God is still writing. Praying He continues to bless this chapter of your life. 🤍
I’ve followed you for a while. Your Q died 4 days before my Robert. I’m 77 years old and moving forward slowly. For you, I am happy. I wish you and your family only happiness l. thank you for sharing 💔💜
Lois, this touched my heart so much. ❤️ Thank you for following along and for your kindness. I’m so sorry for the loss of Robert. There is no timeline for grief, and “moving forward slowly” is still moving forward. I’m praying the Lord continues to give you peace and moments of joy along the way. Thank you for celebrating this new chapter with me—it means more than I can express. 🤍
Time is your friend! So glad you are moving towards your feelings while taking the time to understand it all. Life is never the same as we move through the years change and changes are part of life. God is in these moments and always guiding us! Happiness is what makes God Happy! Blessings to you as you move forward!
Deborah, thank you for these wise and encouraging words. ❤️ Time has been such a gift, even when it didn’t feel like it in the beginning. I’m so thankful God has faithfully walked with me through every season, and I know He’ll continue to do the same. Thank you for taking the time to encourage me. Your kindness is a blessing. 🤍
I’m so happy for you. God never intended for you to be alone. You have been blessed with a wonderful gift.
Monica, thank you so much for your sweet encouragement. ❤️ I’ve spent a lot of time praying through this season, and I’m so thankful for the ways God continues to gently lead and remind me that He’s never finished writing our stories. Your kindness means so much. 🤍