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
Lori thanks for sharing your story. I lost my beautiful wife Debbie on 7/11/2024. We were married 49 years & 3 months. She fought 2 rounds of cancer for 5 years. My 3 grown sons were with me when she passed. I’m still in the grieving process. I’m happy she is in the arms of Jesus, and no longer in pain. I’m relying on the Lord to guide me in my recovery process.
Preston, I’m so incredibly sorry for the loss of your Debbie. Forty-nine years together is such a beautiful testimony of love. Thank you for sharing a piece of your story with me. While I wish neither of us understood this kind of grief, I’m grateful we can remind one another that this isn’t the end. I’m praying the Lord continues to surround you with His peace, comfort, and strength as you take each day one step at a time. ❤️
Hey Lori, I absolutely love your story. After losing my late 4 years ago it has been very tough. We would have been married almost 16 years ago. We never had any children.
I know God has plans 1 step at a time.
I enjoy watching all your videos, stories recipes, blogs.
love watching them about your children, and their videos
May God continue to bless you.
Please continue praying for me as I am going through a rough time financially and health issues.
God bless,love.
Lisa
Lisa, thank you for sharing your heart with me. I’m so sorry for the loss of your husband. Even though each story is different, grief has a way of connecting us in ways we never expected. I love what you said—God really does lead us one step at a time, even when we can’t see the whole path. Thank you for walking alongside me, for watching, reading, and cheering me on. I’m praying the Lord continues to comfort you, strengthen you, and fill you with hope for whatever He has ahead. May God bless you as well. ❤️
Lori, I absolutely love your story. Losing my husband, 4 years ago have been quite tough. We would have been married 16 years ago this past March.
I know God has plans for us one step at a time.
I really enjoying reading your stories, listening to your videos and watching your videos, plus the recipes.
Pray that God will continue to heal you and relationships.
Love watching the videos of your children.
Unfortunately,my late husband and I never had children.
Please continue to pray for me, as I struggling financially,health issues, etc.
I will continue watching.
Also love your outfits and makeup tips.
May GOD continue to bless you and your family.
Hi Lori, I have been following your posts since the beginning of this year! Thank you for sharing your journey. You are so encouraging a lot of the things you write about grief I can relate to, as i am sure many others. Facebook has its way of popping up posts. I am from Canada. I am so happy for you that you found Raymond. Was he also a widower? My husband passed away March 2023 from pancreatic cancer. This is a journey no one is prepared for but we have to go through it. I am 66 and cant imagine ever dating again, but yet this is a lonely life. I wish you all the best in this chapter of your life. Take care and I look forward to reading more.
Janet, thank you for sharing your heart with me all the way from Canada. I’m so sorry for the loss of your husband. You’re right—this is a journey no one is ever prepared for, yet here we are learning to take one step at a time. Raymond wasn’t a widower; he was divorced. One of the things I’ve learned is that while our stories are different, God can still write something beautiful from broken places. Thank you for your kind words and encouragement. I’m so grateful you’re here, and I’m praying the Lord continues to give you peace and strength in your own journey.
Thank you Lori! I never knew I could grieve a life I once lived in another state with a tribe I lived. Our move from beautiful Colorado to just north of Smithville was something I was no prepared for. Yet, God is writing a story even when I can’t see it.
Susan, your words really touched me. ❤️ We don’t often think about grieving a place, a community, or a season of life, but those losses are very real too. I love that you can already see God writing your story even when the next chapter isn’t fully clear. I’m praying He fills this new place with friendships, purpose, and unexpected blessings. Thank you for sharing your heart with me.
Hi Lori,
I have been following you since I lost my husband back in March 2025. We were married almost 43 years, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and passed away 8 weeks later. I found you one day, you have been a big part of my healing journey. I am so happy for you that you have found someone special again and wish you all the best!
Diane, I’m so incredibly sorry for the loss of your husband. Forty-three years is such a beautiful lifetime together, and I can only imagine how much you miss him. Thank you for trusting me with your story and for allowing me to be a small part of your healing journey. It means more than I can express. I’m praying God continues to bring you comfort, hope, and little reminders that He is faithfully walking with you every step of the way. ❤️
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.
These words were a healing balm to my heart today. My 91-yr old father just had a stroke and life as he and we know it has drastically changed. My husband and I are his POA and we have so many difficult decisions to make regarding his care and his future. I’ve been struggling with a lot of fear. I love how you said, “I was asking Him to help me trust Him when I was still afraid.” Fear. That is what is consuming me. I feel the weight of making literal life or death decisions. It made me realize just how much I was letting fear paralyze me rather than mobilizing me to trust in God’s provision. Thank your for these precious words of wisdom. Blessings to you, Lori
Sharon, thank you for trusting me with something so personal. ❤️ My heart aches for you and your family. What an incredibly heavy season to be walking through, and I can only imagine the weight of those decisions. Please don’t forget that God isn’t asking you to carry tomorrow all at once—He’s simply asking you to trust Him with today’s next step. He sees every tear, every difficult conversation, and every decision you’re making out of love for your father.
It means so much to know those words met you exactly where you needed them. I truly believe God gives us enough grace for the next faithful step, even when fear is still present. I’ll be praying for wisdom, peace, and strength for you and your husband, and that you’ll experience His presence in a very tangible way in the days ahead. Thank you for encouraging me today too. ❤️
I was crying that I could hardly read the next word. This is absolutely beautiful.
I love how God has taught you to heal and trust and not lose hope for the future.
I love the cardinal story but when I read it, I thought the cardinal flew into ur window and that was the end of him . LOL. Oh gosh…thank you for sharing and being so vulnerable and sharing God’s AMAZING grace. What a great example of trusting the Lord you are to everybody. Looking forward to your next blog😊.
Stacey, your comment made me laugh out loud! 😂 I promise the cardinal survived! I can totally see how you thought that’s where the story was headed.
Thank you for your sweet words. ❤️ It means so much to know this story touched your heart. Looking back, I can see that God wasn’t just teaching me how to heal—He was teaching me how to trust Him with the chapters I couldn’t yet see. If sharing my journey encourages someone else to keep holding onto hope, then every vulnerable word has been worth it.
Thank you for reading, crying, laughing with me, and walking alongside me. I’m so grateful you’re here, and I can’t wait to share what’s next. ❤️
I was crying that I could hardly read the next word. This is absolutely beautiful.
I love how God has taught you to heal and trust and not lose hope for the future.
I love the cardinal story but when I read it, I thought the cardinal flew into ur window and that was the end of him . LOL. Oh gosh…thank you for sharing and being so vulnerable and sharing God’s AMAZING grace. What a great example of trusting the Lord you are to everybody. Looking forward to your next blog😊.
I have been following you before Q passed away. I’m so happy for you! My husband of almost 45 years passed away 4 years ago and will be 5 years in August. I’m 68 and I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life alone and I think I’m content with that. I’m too old to begin another life with someone else even though it’s a lonesomeness I have never had. I can be in a room full of people and still miss my husband and still feel lonesome.
Again I’m so happy for you! You are young and still have a lot of living to do.
Brenda, thank you so much for sharing your heart with me. ❤️ First, I am so sorry for the loss of your husband after 45 years together. What a beautiful gift that kind of love is, and I can only imagine how deeply you still miss him.
I appreciate you saying you’re happy for me. That means more than you know. I also want you to know that I have so much respect for your journey. There isn’t one “right” way to walk through grief. Some people find joy in another relationship, while others find peace and contentment in remaining on their own. Neither path is more faithful or loving than the other.
My prayer is that no matter what our stories look like, we both continue to experience God’s presence, comfort, and peace each day. Thank you for following along through all these years and for taking the time to encourage me. I’m grateful you’re here. ❤️
Lori, I was in the midst of writing my comment and it went somewhere. Can you send it back for me to fix? I was rewriting it and putting in an important sentence when I lost it!
Joy, I’m so sorry that happened! Unfortunately, I don’t have a way to recover comments that weren’t submitted before they were lost. 😞 I hate when technology does that! If you’re able, I’d love for you to rewrite it when you have a moment. Even from what you shared, “God sent you to me” touched my heart deeply. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment—it truly means so much to me. ❤️
Lori, God sent you to me.
<3
Joy, your words brought tears to my eyes. ❤️ Thank you for sharing that with me. I truly believe God brings people into each other’s lives at just the right time. I’m grateful He used my story to encourage you, and I pray He continues to remind you that He is with you in whatever season you’re walking through. Thank you for being here.
Beautiful story.
Thank you!
Lori, for 3 years I have been in a position of every word you have mentioned above. Unfortunately my story is walking through not one but 2 divorces, feeling like I had done everything right, the way God wanted me to as a wife, yet bothe left me with trauma and healing, I was able to forgive easily and realize God had me there on purpose for a purpose, sometimes a lesson sometimes an assignment. At the same time my dad finds wins the lottery and decided to put me in charge of everything, I had not yet caught my breath for the divorce and figuring out how I would protect my children. Then we find out my dad has cancer, I am my dads only adopted child, so the responsibility grew, not just to my dad, to my heavenly Father and all that He was entrusting me with. He has done miracles, so many miracles. During the same time I had the love of my life (met him at 13) reached out to me and I felt guilty for considering happiness (still do). I am still on this journey and your Journaling has inspired me to write my story. God called me to write my story, and I have been paralyzed by grief and fear for 4 years. I have seen the healing and hope all along and all I couod do was take tiny steps towards the future. One thing I know is God has me and if He has me then it’s going to be more wonderful than anything I can imagine. Thank you for sharing your heart and healing and being that person who God has spoken through for me to heal, those tiny doses that you speak of really are the way it is. I would love to share more at some point. With Love, Brandy
Brandy, thank you for trusting me with your story. ❤️ As I read your comment, I could feel the weight you’ve been carrying these last few years. You’ve walked through so much—divorce, caring for your dad, grief, responsibility, healing, and now wrestling with the possibility of happiness again. That’s a lot for one heart to hold.
One thing that stood out to me is when you said God called you to write your story. Please don’t ignore that gentle nudge. Your story matters because it points to a God who has been faithful through every chapter. Someone else is waiting for the hope that only your testimony can give.
I also loved what you said about taking “tiny steps.” I truly believe that’s how healing happens—not in giant leaps, but in faithful steps of obedience. I’ll be praying that God continues to replace fear with courage and gives you the confidence to write what He’s placed on your heart.
Thank you for allowing me to be a small part of your journey. I hope you’ll come back and share more with me as you continue walking toward the beautiful future God is still writing. ❤️ God bless you, friend.
Faith that I am doing what God has planned for me. It’s been 27 months and I’m trying fo sell some things to size down. I know my Robert would live that I’m taking this big step. He would love the condos going up in our subdivision that I want
I’ve been there several times and feel completely at peace. Thank you for sharing your heart and story. I’ve followed you for approximately 2 years. Our God is awesome.
Love and prayers ❤️ 🙏
Hi Lori – WoW! What a message of hope you have shared. Thank you!! I don’t believe that I came across your story today by accident. I just shared with a friend of mine at church yesterday that maybe, I am willing to be ready….(that’s a reluctant surrender) haha!
It will be 6 years in September since my husband passed. I’ve not had any dates, not even a notion of someone. I am active with our worship team and women’s ministry at church, I have a great group of friends that I didn’t even know prior to my Bob’s passing, so I’m not a hermit….but yesterday something inside spoke to my heart during our pastor’s message.
And then, I said out loud to my friend yesterday, what I’ve not been really able to say to anyone….and then I see your story.
I’m drenched with tears as I write this. I’m not sure if they are a release or fear…. but something is breaking inside and I am very aware of it. I do adore how God uses people in so many ways to plant seeds and encourage one another. I’ve always said that, “if God has someone for me in the next chapter of my days here on earth, then if it’s of Him, nothing can stop it.”
I still believe that, but surrendering to it is something new. Admitting it, is something different than just saying words. I think I always try to figure things out rather than to allow God to just work and be open to it. Don’t know about the Facebook Dating thing….but will be open to God’s leading there. 😉
I can see what He’s done in the past, but what more could He really do if I were to honestly surrender to Him?
I’m going to keep doing what I do, enjoying my friends and all that we do together as well as serving at church….but I’m also going to be more mindful of surrendering. Either way, I’ll be okay. <3
Cari, your comment brought tears to my eyes. ❤️ Thank you for taking the time to share your heart with me.
I don’t believe this was an accident either. I love how you recognized that something was stirring in your heart before you ever came across my story. That tells me God was already at work, gently preparing you for whatever He has next.
What stood out to me most was what you said about surrender. I think that’s the real journey—not surrendering to the idea of another relationship, but surrendering to God’s will, whatever that may be. Whether He writes another love story or simply continues to deepen your relationship with Him, you can trust that His plans are always good.
Six years is a long road, and yet your love for Bob is still so evident. Loving him and being open to whatever God has for your future aren’t opposites—they can exist together. I know that’s something the Lord has been teaching me too.
Keep serving, keep worshiping, keep enjoying the life He’s given you, and keep your hands open to whatever He places in them. I’ll be praying that He gives you peace, wisdom, and joy in this next chapter. Thank you for letting me be a small part of your story. ❤️ God bless you.
Lori you have a gift to articulate messages of hope through pain, love through immense loss. Real and raw emotions that most people are too afraid to open themselves up to especially in a very public way. But God has shown incredible trust in you as you trust in Him. Every blog, post, live video you share points us back to Jesus and the goodness of God. I have seen the incredibly ugly comments and absolute hatred thrown at you and it breaks my heart for the pain it has to cause you. But you have handled it with such grace. Your story is a blessing to thousands. God is using you mightily. I’m so happy for you and Raymond. You deserve to be happy and I know Quintin would want that for you. I love and adore you Lori. Let your light shine bright friend. ❤️❤️❤️
Melody, this touched my heart more than you know. ❤️ Thank you for seeing beyond my story and recognizing the God behind it. My prayer has always been that if people remember anything about my journey, they remember His faithfulness more than my circumstances.
Thank you for your kindness toward Raymond as well. You and Blair were so dear to Q~ and still are to me <3 I don’t take this new chapter lightly, and I’m so grateful for the grace and encouragement you’ve shown me. Your words remind me why vulnerability is worth it if it points even one person to Jesus. Thank you for being here and for praying me through every season. ❤️ Love you so much!