Holding Grief in One Hand, Joy in the Other

You haven’t heard much from us over the past year — and for good reason. Much of the work had been falling on my shoulders, and in 2025 it simply became difficult to keep up. Along with producing my own podcast and helping others with theirs, I experienced two major life changes that reshaped everything.

After two months in the hospital, I lost my dearest friend of 30 years. I was with him as often as I could during those months. And, as fate would have it, during that same time my first grandchild was born.

Talk about bittersweet.

On one hand, I was carrying the deep sadness of watching someone I loved fade away. On the other, I was experiencing overwhelming joy over a brand-new life entering the world. Losing one life while welcoming another — all within the same season. There were days I felt guilty for the abundance of joy I felt in one moment, and other days I felt guilty for the sadness that sat so deeply in my soul.

Naturally, during times like these, there are lessons to be learned and growth to be experienced — even when we don’t want them. As my friend was dying, I had to come face-to-face with something I’ve struggled with my whole life: I can’t control everything. I am a fixer. That’s what they called me at home for years. You’ve got a problem? I can fix it. And most of the time, I did.

But the problem with being a fixer is that it doesn’t always leave room for God to do what needs to be done in certain circumstances.

During my friend’s time in the hospital, I learned — painfully — that there were things I simply could not do. I didn’t understand what was happening to him. I couldn’t make it better. I couldn’t fix it. I had to let go. And I had to let God finish a work He had already begun. Not everything is up to me. Not everything can be fixed by me. And learning that — really learning it — changed me.

Because if I’m being honest with myself — and I eventually got there — I realized it was really about control.

During that time of awakening, I was reminded of something Oswald Chambers wrote in My Utmost for His Highest. There’s a devotion in July where he speaks about “calculating without God.” He references Psalm 37:5:

“Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass.” Chambers writes, “Don’t calculate without God. God seems to have a delightful way of upsetting the things we have calculated on without taking Him into account… Haul yourself up a hundred and one times a day in order to keep your heart from being troubled, until you get into the habit of putting God first and calculating with Him in view.”

That hit me. I believed I could take care of the situation. And yes — of course I prayed. A lot. But prayer alone wasn’t the issue. I had to come to the place where I stopped managing God and truly trusted Him with the situation. Trusting Him entirely. Not with conditions. Not with backup plans. But with open hands.

And that surrender — real surrender — was the hardest lesson of all. That lesson in surrender served me well through the rest of 2025 — and it’s one I hope to deepen as I move forward.

Another lesson came through the sheer joy of becoming a grandmother for the first time — GiGi, in this case. I had no idea the depth of love I was about to experience. Yes, I loved my child — and still do — in a way I had never loved anyone before. But this was different. It felt as though my love for my son had been multiplied. The reasons I love him are the very reasons I love her. I see him in her. I remember things again through her — the scent of an infant, the joy when she reaches for me, the awe of watching her grow and learn new skills. And above all, the way she smiles at me. It’s all multiplied. It’s as though my son is smiling at me once again — with that same unfiltered, effortless love. A second chance for all of that. What a true blessing. The Bible gives us clear instruction on our role as grandparents.

In Deuteronomy 4:9 we are reminded:

“Only be careful and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them fade from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.”

This isn’t a lesson meant only for our children, with our work finished after that. This extends to their children as well. We are called to tell our grandchildren of the mighty things God has done in our lives, because by extension, He was actually at work in theirs too.

Psalm 71:17–18 echoes that calling:

“Since my youth, God, you have taught me, and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds. Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, my God, till I declare your power to the next generation, your mighty acts to all who are to come.”

That is our mission. That is our mandate. We are to declare God’s love, works, and power to the next generation — and to all who are still to come. And I love that. I feel called to become all that a grandparent is meant to be — a window into our family’s past and a bridge to its future. To carry the stories forward. To love without conditions. To share the love of God with a brand-new life.

And in doing so, to be reminded of the One who does all of that for every one of us.

Our parent. Our Father. Our God.