Finding Hope, Gratitude, and Ground to Stand On When Life Is Forever Changed

The calendar flips.
The world cheers.
And somehow… you’re still standing in the same ache.

A new year has a way of making grief feel louder.

Everyone else seems ready to “move forward,” to declare resolutions and fresh starts, while you’re quietly asking yourself how it’s possible that time keeps going when the person you love is still gone.

Or maybe the grief you’re carrying isn’t tied to death at all.

Maybe it’s the loss of a marriage you thought would last forever.
The loss of health.
The loss of a dream.
The loss of the version of yourself you used to be.
The loss of certainty.
The loss of safety.

Grief is not one-size-fits-all.
And it doesn’t follow the calendar.

As I step into another new year without my Q, I keep coming back to something I shared in my milestone blog, “A Full Year Without Q: Grief, Growth, and the Sacred Work of Carrying On.” That year taught me this truth:

Grief doesn’t end.
It evolves.
And so do we.

If you’re reading this, I want you to pause for just a moment and breathe.
You are not behind.
You are not doing this wrong.
And you are not alone.

If you feel able, I want to gently encourage you to comment as you read—even if it’s just one sentence, one word, or a simple “me too.”

When we speak our grief out loud, it becomes lighter to carry. And your words might be the exact thing another hurting heart needs to read today.

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Grief Isn’t Just the Loss of a Person

One of the hardest lessons grief has taught me is this:
Even when the loss is a death, what we grieve is so much more than the absence of a body.

When I lost Q, I didn’t just lose my husband.

I lost:

• The life I thought we were building
• The future plans we talked about late at night
• The way I used to see myself
• The sense of safety that came with “we” instead of “me”
• The version of motherhood I imagined raising kids alongside him

Grief is layered.
And it shows up in ways we don’t always expect.

That’s why I want to say this clearly: grief doesn’t require a funeral.
You can grieve:

• A divorce
• A diagnosis
• A child leaving home
• A dream that died quietly
• A friendship that changed
• A season that will never come back

If that resonates with you, you belong here too.

And if you feel comfortable, I’d love for you to comment:
👉 What are you grieving as this new year begins?

Naming it matters.

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Carrying On Doesn’t Mean Carrying It Alone

In that first year without Q, I learned that “carrying on” isn’t about being strong or pretending you’re okay.

It’s about finding small, faithful ways to keep showing up—sometimes hour by hour—while allowing God to meet you right in the middle of your brokenness.

As we step into a new year, especially for those of us navigating widowhood or deep loss, I want to share three tangible ways to move forward gently, intentionally, and with grace.

Not as rules.
Not as pressure.
But as anchors.

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1. Choose Gratitude—Even When It Feels Impossible

(The Most Transformative Practice in Grief)

Let me be honest.

Gratitude in grief can feel offensive at first.

When everything has been taken from you, being told to “be thankful” can feel like salt in a wound. I wrestled with this deeply. But over time, I realized something powerful:

Gratitude doesn’t deny pain—it keeps pain from defining everything.

Gratitude is not pretending things are okay.
It’s choosing to notice what still is.

Some days, gratitude looked like:

• The kids laughing at the dinner table
• A warm cup of coffee I didn’t have to rush through
• The fact that I got out of bed
• A text from someone who remembered my loss
• God’s presence when words failed

Scripture reminds us:

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”
— 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Notice it doesn’t say for all circumstances.
It says in them.

Gratitude became the practice that slowly softened the sharp edges of my grief. It didn’t remove the ache—but it made room for light to coexist with sorrow.

One practical way I’ve leaned into this is through daily gratitude journaling, which is why I created my grief journal. It’s not about filling pages with positivity—it’s about giving your heart a safe place to land. You can grab a “ROOTED IN HIM” journal HERE. It isn't just for death it is for grief.

If you’re reading this and thinking, I don’t even know what I’m grateful for right now, start small.

Gratitude can sound like:

• “I survived today.”
• “God carried me when I couldn’t carry myself.”
• “I felt seen.”

If this resonates, I’d love for you to comment with one thing you’re grateful for today—no matter how small. Your words may help someone else find theirs.

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2. Give Yourself Permission to Grieve the Loss of Who You Were

THIS ONE IS HARD!!

This one took me longer to recognize.

Grief didn’t just change my life—it changed me.

 

I had to mourn:

• The wife I was
• The woman who assumed tomorrow was promised
• The version of myself who felt secure in her future

And here’s the truth we don’t talk about enough:

You are allowed to grieve the person you were before loss.

Scripture speaks to this transformation:

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!”
— Isaiah 43:18–19

This verse doesn’t mean erasing the past.
It means honoring it without being trapped there.

In the new year, I stopped asking myself, “Why am I not who I used to be?”
And started asking, “Who is God shaping me into now?”

Practically, this looked like:

• Letting go of expectations I could no longer meet
• Redefining success in smaller, gentler ways
• Giving myself grace on days I felt undone

If you’re struggling with the version of yourself you see now, please hear this:
You are not broken. You are becoming.

If you feel led, comment below with one thing you’re learning about yourself in this season. Growth often comes wrapped in grief.

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3. Invite God Into the Ordinary Moments

In grief, the big spiritual moments can feel distant. But God met me most powerfully in the ordinary.

In making dinner.
In folding laundry alone.
In sitting in silence.

Scripture promises:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18

God didn’t ask me to have it all figured out.
He just asked me to keep showing up.

In this new year, I stopped waiting to feel “whole” before leaning into faith. I invited God into the mess.

Practically, this looked like:

• Whispered prayers instead of perfect ones
• Scripture written on sticky notes
• Letting my grief journal become a place of conversation with God
• Allowing faith to coexist with doubt

If prayer feels hard right now, you’re not alone. Even a simple, “God, I need You,” is enough.

If this spoke to you, consider commenting “me too.” Sometimes solidarity is the strongest prayer.

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As You Step Into This New Year…

You don’t need a resolution.
You don’t need a five-year plan.
You don’t need to rush healing.

You only need permission to take this season one breath at a time.

Grief will look different this year than it did last year—and that doesn’t mean you’re moving backward. It means you’re moving through.

If you haven’t yet, I encourage you to read “A Full Year Without Q: Grief, Growth, and the Sacred Work of Carrying On.” It holds space for milestones, setbacks, and the sacred work of surviving when life doesn’t make sense.

And if you’re looking for a gentle companion on your journey, my grief journal was created for hearts just like yours—raw, honest, and still hoping.

Before you go, I’d love to hear from you.
👉 What is one thing you’re carrying into this new year—and one thing you’re hoping to lay down?

Your story matters.
Your voice matters.
And when you share, you remind others they are not alone.

I’m so glad you’re here.
And I’m walking this road with you. 💛 You are NOT Alone!