The past thirty-six days since my precious daughter’s passing have been
grueling. The shock of losing her pushed me into a dark place, trapping me in
sorrow until a friend pointed out something I hadn’t recognized—I was being
tormented by a Spirit of Grief.
I believe in the reality of spiritual warfare,
but I was too overwhelmed to see it. However, once I began praying to rebuke
this spirit, I felt myself slowly climbing out of despair. This past week, I’ve
been able to function better. Some days, I only cry once instead of a dozen
times or more.
As God continues to answer my prayers, I find
the strength, courage, and energy to accept that my daughter is gone.
I’m no stranger to grief. I’ve lost my beloved
great-grandmother, my loving mother, my dear husband, and now my precious daughter.
Each loss has left a deep wound. Grief forces us to confront death in a deeply
personal way. And despite what some may say, it doesn’t get easier with time or
familiarity. Each loss brings a fresh wave of sorrow that stings, cripples,
and, at times, fills me with anger.
Over the past thirty-six days, I’ve
experienced a rollercoaster of emotions and dealt with the aftermath of losing
someone so dear. It has been exhausting. It has been debilitating. And in many
ways, I know this journey is just beginning.
Yet, once I started praying for the Holy
Spirit to free me from this torment, God delivered me from its clutches. I feel
better physically—no more rushing to the bathroom or eating antacids like candy
to soothe an upset stomach. My mind is slowly healing, and spiritually, I’m
experiencing the power of focused prayer.
Through my tears, I can still whisper, “Thank
You, Lord,” because He has been my refuge. I choose to walk with Jesus and rest
under His wings, where I am safe from the trials before me. Each day, I face
life without my daughter, yet I find myself sleeping a little better at night.
But life hasn’t stopped. On top of grieving, I am going to move again. Not long ago, I told Stephanie that I hoped I’d never
have to move again. She understood completely. And yet, here I am, facing the
reality of packing up, relocating, and spending money I don’t want to spend. If
I stay, I have no family nearby, and if the house sells, a new landlord will
likely raise the rent—something I can’t afford as a retired widow on a fixed
income.
When I decided to move, I cringed. I
cried. I felt like a weary traveler wandering and exhausted from the journey. I
had barely started packing when God spoke to my heart: Think of this as a mission. You are a missionary, touching lives
wherever you go—even when you don’t realize it.
His words shifted my perspective. Sometimes, we are called to do things we
don’t want to do simply because they are necessary.
Spring is awakening, and the flowers I planted
with care are beginning to push through the soil. The thought of leaving behind
my trees, bushes, and perennials breaks my heart. But God reminds me: Think of it as a gift to those who will live here
next. Let them enjoy the beauty you’ve left behind.
As I downsize yet again, parting with
belongings that hold meaning, my heart aches. But God reassures me: New days are ahead. Keep what you need for that
future.
I worry about my two cats and how they’ll
adjust to our new home. But again, God whispers: Give them time—and give yourself time. Show them they are safe,
and you will find comfort in that too.
This season of my life is teaching me to
surrender my worries to God. When I place my trust in Him, He gives me hope,
strength, and the assurance that He is guiding me forward. And for that, I
offer Him praise.
I will forever miss my daughter, of course. But I also
know that one day, I will see her again when I am called home. Praise the
Lord—hallelujah!
Psalm
121:1-8
"I will lift up my eyes to the hills—
From whence comes my help?
My help comes from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.
He will not allow your foot to be moved;
He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel
Shall neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is your keeper;
The Lord is your shade at your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
Nor the moon by night.
The Lord shall preserve you from all evil;
He shall preserve your soul.
The Lord shall preserve your going out and your coming in
From this time forth, and even forevermore.”
