Choosing Joy Didn’t Mean I Healed Overnight. So many times it looked exactly like this picture below with the covers pulled up over my head.
and some days some moments it still looks like this.
So, let me say this again… Choosing Joy Didn’t Mean I Healed Overnight
It Meant I Refused to Become Someone I Didn’t Recognize
If you saw a photo of me laughing today, you might assume something about my healing.
That I’m “better now.”
That the grief has faded.
That joy replaced sorrow.
But joy doesn’t mean the pain disappeared.
It means I made a decision about who I would become inside the pain.
I didn’t choose to lose my husband.
That moment shattered my world without asking permission.
But I do get a choice in how I heal.
And that choice matters more than we talk about.
There will always be a scar.
There will always be a space where my best friend should be.
Grief doesn’t vanish just because time moves forward or because faith exists.
What we don’t talk about enough is this
An unhealed wound doesn’t stay contained.
It leaks into conversations.
It hardens into bitterness.
It quietly shapes how we parent, love, trust, and see ourselves.
And at some point, I had to face a hard truth
If I didn’t intentionally heal, my grief would start deciding things for me.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But subtly.
It would decide my tone.
My patience.
My hope.
My identity.
Grief Will Change You — But You Decide How
One of the biggest lies I wrestled with early on was this
“If I’m still hurting, I must be doing something wrong.”
But grief isn’t a sign of weakness.
It’s a sign of love.
The danger isn’t feeling deeply.
The danger is letting those feelings become the loudest voice in the room.
In a coffee chat I recorded recently, I said something that surprised even me when it came out
“The devil wants you to pay attention to your feelings, and Jesus wants you to pay attention to His truth.”
That doesn’t mean feelings are bad.
It means feelings are not facts.
Grief will tell you
You are broken beyond repair
You will never feel whole again
This pain defines you now
Truth says something different.
Truth says pain can refine instead of ruin.
Truth says loss doesn’t cancel purpose.
Truth says suffering does not get to name you.
Grief absolutely changed me.
I am not the same woman I was before loss.
But I had to decide
Would it make me harder… or humbler?
Closed off… or more compassionate?
Rooted in fear… or rooted in God?
Where You Root Yourself Determines What Grows
An unhealed wound doesn’t just hurt quietly.
It festers.
It infects.
It spreads into places it was never meant to touch.
I knew I didn’t want my kids growing up around unresolved pain disguised as “just how mom is now.”
I knew I didn’t want grief to shape my tone more than grace.
Or my reactions more than truth.
So I began doing the hard work
Not rushing healing
Not pretending faith erased pain
But intentionally rooting myself somewhere solid.
Because identity rooted in pain will always produce fear.
But identity rooted in Christ produces endurance, clarity, and eventually… joy.
Not the loud, performative kind.
The steady kind that holds sorrow without being swallowed by it.
Why I Created the Rooted In Him Prayer Journal
This is exactly why I created the Rooted In Him prayer journal you can grab it HERE.
Not just for widows.
Not just for physical loss.
But for anyone grieving something they didn’t choose.
Dreams.
Marriages.
Health.
Versions of themselves they no longer recognize.
Prayer journaling became a place where I could be honest without spiraling.
Where I could write the feelings down instead of letting them run the show.
Where I could place truth next to pain and watch God gently reframe it.
Here’s a small excerpt from the journal:
“Today I acknowledge what hurts without letting it define me.
I give God my questions without demanding immediate answers.
I choose to root my identity not in what I lost, but in Who still holds me.
Even here, even now, I am not abandoned.
I am being shaped, not shattered.”
Healing doesn’t require pretending.
It requires surrender.
Not surrendering your emotions
But surrendering the authority they hold over your identity.
Joy and Sorrow Can Coexist
This is the part that still feels controversial to say out loud
Joy and sorrow are not opposites.
They can sit in the same room.
I still cry.
I still get angry.
I still ask why.
But I bring those questions with me, not away from Him.
God is not intimidated by our grief.
He is not offended by our honesty.
He is not surprised by our anger.
And He is deeply invested in who we become on the other side of pain.
I don’t believe joy means ignoring sorrow.
I believe joy means refusing to let sorrow steal everything else too.
An Invitation for You
If you’re here, reading this, chances are you’re carrying something heavy.
And maybe today’s not the day you feel joyful.
That’s okay.
But maybe today can be the day you decide
“I won’t let this pain decide who I become.”
I would love for this blog to be more than words on a screen.
So if you’re willing, share below
What was the moment you decided to choose joy, even in the middle of pain
Or maybe the moment you realized you want to choose it, even if you’re not there yet
Your story might be the permission someone else didn’t know they needed.
And if you want to hear more of this conversation, I’ve linked a coffee chat video below where I talk honestly about how grief changed me and how I’m choosing to let it refine me instead of define me.
You are not behind.
You are not failing.
You are becoming.
Even here.
Especially here.
🤍
If you feel comfortable, I’d love for you to share in the comments how you’re taking those next steps in healing. Whether it’s a small shift, a quiet prayer, or simply choosing to show up today—your words matter more than you know.
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