Welcome back, my Growing Woman community. 🫶🏾

I was on a prayer call the other morning, and someone said something that was so simple… but so profound.

She said: “We get to choose the way we grieve.”

And whew… that thing sat with me.

Because grief is one of those topics that most of us were never taught how to handle. We were taught how to “be strong.” We were taught how to “keep going.” We were taught how to “pray and push.”

But nobody really taught us that grief has different faces, and that you are allowed to grieve in a way that fits the season you’re in.

And let me say this clearly:

No one gets to judge how long you grieve.

No one gets to decide what your grief should look like.

And no one gets to rush your healing.

Grief is grief—whether it comes from losing a child, losing a parent, losing a marriage, losing finances, losing friendships, losing a dream, or even losing the version of yourself you thought you would be by now.

And as we grow older… as we become more seasoned… we start to realize something:

The more life you live, the more grief you will meet.

But what I’ve learned is this: grief doesn’t always show up the same way.

I’ve grieved differently depending on what I was losing.

When I divorced my husband…

My grief looked like solitude.

I had a four-year-old… and a belly full, y’all. A four-year-old and a belly load. And I had made up in my mind that I was no longer going to put myself in harm’s way. I was not going to keep enduring behavior and abuse that I knew I didn’t deserve.

I knew I was worth more.

And I knew my Father didn’t go to the cross for me to live in bondage.

So during that divorce season, I pulled away. I got quiet. I sat with myself. I spent time in worship. I spent time being drenched in the Word.

I stepped back from serving. I stepped back from noise. I stepped back from people.

And I just ate.

Not food.

I ate the Word of God.

I let Him sing deliverance over me. I let Him sing restoration over me. I let Him sing freedom over me.

That grief was private. It was quiet. It was holy.

When I lost my father…

That grief looked completely different.

Because my father’s transition was… honestly… beautiful.

Yes, it hurt. Yes, it was heavy. But I knew exactly where my father was going. My parents instilled in us the importance of having a personal relationship with Christ, and my daddy lived that thing for real.

He transitioned at home, on hospice, surrounded by love, surrounded by prayer, surrounded by dignity.

And I had the honor—listen—the honor of singing worship over my father right before he took his last breath.

We prayed with him.

We walked that journey with him.

And I’ll never forget it.

And if you’ve ever witnessed life transitioning into eternity with your own eyes… I don’t understand how you couldn’t believe God is real. I don’t. That experience will change you forever.

That grief was painful… but it was peaceful.

And then… losing my fiancé.

That grief has been different too.

Because this time, my grief didn’t pull me into silence.

This time, my grief pushed me into reflection.

I’ve been dissecting things. Looking at myself. Not blaming him. Not tearing him down. But really sitting with the question:

What could I have done better?

What did I do well?

Where are my areas of opportunity?

What needs to heal in me?

And one of the ways I’m grieving now is by coming to you all.

By writing.

By sharing.

Because I know somebody else is walking through something similar, and the enemy would love for you to think you’re alone.

But you’re not.

And if my story can help someone breathe again… if my process can help someone choose healing instead of bitterness… then I’m going to tell it.

Because that’s what grown women do.

We heal out loud so somebody else can survive in silence.

And here’s what I know for sure…

God restores.

He restores in ways we can’t even imagine.

He restores you to greater than the version of you that existed before you ever got hurt.

He restores you so deeply that you’ll look back and realize you didn’t just survive the grief…

you became someone new through it.

So yes, grief is real.

But so is God.

And one thing I can say with confidence is this:

God restores you to greater than you even realized restoration was needed.