Two months after the birth of my third child, my father died. Suddenly. Intrusively. Without warning or welcome.
But wait. We had plans for lunch that day. And his newest grandchild had just started turning his head toward that familiar grandpa voice.
And didn’t God know that my tummy was still soft from postpartum body changes and my emotions still raw from three children arriving in rapid succession? Whose timeline was this?
Loss, disappointment, and heartache often arrive as uninvited guests to a party we never planned. When you’re in the child-bearing years, where your sanity is stretched thin, the emotional bandwidth for accommodating grief feels nonexistent. That’s the reality of grief after losing a parent while caring for little ones.
That’s when I think about Mary, the young woman we meet in the gospels. We often overlook the context of sadness she must have carried as a young mother.
Mary’s song in Luke 1:46-49 bursts with joy and trust in God. But is it irreverent to wonder if, alongside the joy, a quiet sadness crept in? Like any young woman, she may have dreamed of a different love story. Instead, she faced whispers about her “condition,” the trauma of fleeing Herod’s massacre, and Simeon’s sobering prophecy: “And a sword will pierce your own soul too” (Luke 2:35).
Calling that grief would be mild. It was the reality of God and grief existing together.
My takeaway? You can trust God, desire His will, and be deeply sad at the same time. Period.
This is what processing grief as a Christian often looks like being honest with God about your lament while holding on to His promises. The Psalms echo this reality, filled with cries of “Where are you, God?” and the tears of those who walked closely with Him (Psalm 6:6-9). Sadness and faith can coexist, and together they can deepen trust.
How to Navigate Grieving with Hope
Adjust your expectations to reality
Let go of the idea that you must endure with a “stiff upper lip” or keep it all together. Grief dismantles our usual ways of coping.
Learn to say, “I need help”
If you’re used to being the helper, this may feel unnatural. But this is a season where you are not expected to have all the answers.
Avoid isolation and seek a trusted community
Not everyone needs to hear your full story. Surround yourself with people who can sit in your pain without trying to fix you.
Get outside
Long walks in beautiful spaces can lift the weight of grief. Nature’s beauty can quietly mend what feels broken.
Consider therapy
If possible, seek professional guidance. Pastors can often recommend counselors who offer sliding scales or group support.
Grief and lament are not signs of weak faith; they are forms of worship. They open the door for God’s comfort to meet us where we are.
And here is the truth that keeps me steady: grieving with hope means believing “this is not the end of the story.” As Jesus’ followers, we can cling to the promise of redemption, even when it comes in unexpected ways.
“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope.” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14)
