The Lessons Loss Is Teaching Me

This year has been full of loss for me.

In early January, we unexpectedly lost my stepdad. In March, we had to put our dog, Marley, down. In July, my mom lost her battle with dementia and transitioned to Heaven. That alone feels like a lot on paper, but the losses continued in the lives of people in my circle. As an empath, if you hurt, I feel it too—deeply and personally.

So when a dear friend delivered a baby with special needs and experienced the shock and grief that can come when life looks different than you imagined, I felt it too.

When a sweet student from years past tragically lost his dad in an accident, I felt it too.

When a friend I’ve looked at like a daughter for years was diagnosed with cancer way too young, I felt it too.

When my father-in-law, a staple in our family, struggled with his health, I felt it too.

And beyond those were the losses that were not physical deaths, but deaths of other sorts.

The death of a friendship.

The death of my time as an educator in the public school system.

The death of my position and purpose in the lives of a student body and school staff.

All in all, it’s felt like a lot of loss, at times leaving me overwhelmed, weary, and unsure.

I find that, if we are willing, these are the times when the Lord is able to speak most powerfully into our situations, penetrating our broken hearts with His truth.

I’m learning that there is nothing as healing to my painful reality as His voice. And I’m beginning to understand that even in my grief, there are lessons He desires to teach me.

Lesson #1: Be Present in the Ordinary

My sister and I were talking the other day about the moments when we miss our mom the most. You’d think it would be on the “big days,” like her birthday or Christmas. But so far, we’re finding that it’s in the little moments that we feel the void of her life the most.

In that, the Lord is reminding me of the power of being present. Life is full and busy. It’s not hard to find ourselves distracted and disgruntled, but ordinary days have the potential to be anything but ordinary.

They are actually treasures wrapped in newsprint.

They appear to be nothing of value—plain and mundane. However, when unwrapped and valued, everyday moments become opportunities to make memories, speak life, change mindsets, and impact others. What I wouldn’t give for another morning phone call with my mom. I had so many of those throughout my adult life, but I wish I’d been more present for each one, savoring every moment—whether we were simply catching up or she was giving me advice.

Each day is a gift, and we should treat it as such.

Lesson #2: There Is Power in Legacy

When transitions come and life changes course, there is definitely a moment of loss that can take you under and attempt to keep you stuck.

I’m learning, though, that the power of legacy is stronger than the power of loss.

I lost my mom on July 4th, but in the week afterward, I found myself making her famous sausage casserole and blueberry muffin recipes for people in my life who had also experienced loss.

It was a simple act—taking a meal to a family in need—but in cooking one of her favorites, I noticed a delicate connection between legacy and healing. Yes, the meal served my friends in their time of need, but creating something that reminded me of my mom ushered healing and purpose into my own time of grief. It’s the same in my real estate business as I’ve left the schoolhouse to focus on finding houses for families. Yet, as I continue to honor teachers through my business, legacy is formed. Where there could have been a void of purpose, new meaning is taking shape.

Loss is not the end, although the enemy would love for us to believe that it is.

Legacy is one of the tools God uses to bring healing to our today while we forge a path for our tomorrows.

Lesson #3: Lean Into the Ugly

I don’t like hard emotions.

I’m notorious for busying myself as a means of distracting my heart from feeling anything that may be uncomfortable. For most of my adult life, I have attempted to avoid pain through hard work and a people-focused mentality.

Can I be honest?

This hasn’t served me well. The Lord has shown me time and time again that distracting myself from tough emotions doesn’t mean they go away. Instead, they can actually get worse. It’s like having an open wound on your skin yet continuing to slap a Band-Aid on it. The wound doesn’t simply disappear because a bandage has been applied. Left untreated, it can become infected and cause more damage than if it had been properly cared for when the injury first occurred.

A wound must be cleaned before healing can come.

In the same way, we must allow space for the ugly emotions in our lives. We must offer them, in humility and desperation, to the Lord, for only He can bring wisdom, direction, and ultimate healing. There have been so many moments over the last several weeks when I’ve found myself consumed with thoughts that lead to those ugly emotions.

Fear of losing the loved ones who are still in my life.

Fear of my own life coming to an end.

Sadness and anxiety in the unknowns.

Yet, as each emotion hits, I hear the tender invitation of the Lord to lean in.

He urges me…

Don’t distract. Lean.

Don’t run from this. Lean.

Don’t rationalize and reason. Lean.

And as I lean, He speaks.

He moves.

He proves faithful to His promise that those who mourn will be comforted.

Lesson #4: Move Into the “Now Then”

There are several moments in Scripture when a leader passes away and a baton must be passed.

For example, in Joshua 1, God tells Israel’s new leader:

Moses my servant is dead. Now then, you and all these people, get ready to cross the Jordan River into the land I am about to give to them—to the Israelites. I will give you every place where you set your foot, as I promised Moses. Your territory will extend from the desert to Lebanon, and from the great river, the Euphrates—all the Hittite country—to the Mediterranean Sea in the west. No one will be able to stand against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.

I love the blunt way in which God tells Joshua that he needs to embrace his new normal.

Moses is dead.

He just comes right out with it, as if Joshua isn’t already well aware.

And then He comes with the “now then.”

Sometimes we just need to tell ourselves the honest truth.

My loved one has passed.

My child has left for college.

I have lost my job.

A friend has betrayed me.

Whatever the truth is, we cannot get stuck there. We have to acknowledge it as the stark reality, but then move into the “now then.”

In this Scripture, God’s “now then” includes three things: direction, purpose, and promise.

Direction: Cross the Jordan.

Purpose: Enter the land I am giving you.

Promise: I will give you every place you set your foot, and I will be with you.

Does it hurt to lose someone? Does it grieve your heart to experience the loss of position or identity through a job or situation?

Of course.

But we cannot get lost in the reality of the event. We have to embrace the truth that God is moving us into a new normal. He’s providing direction, purpose, and a promise to be with us every step of the way.

Too often, we allow the loss to define us rather than refine us.

It’s in the “now then” that we hear from God about how to move forward in a healthy way—one that will not only bring healing to our pain but also provide direction for what comes next.

And we have to remind ourselves that we don’t move forward by ourselves.

The promise spoken to Joshua stands true for us as well. He says to us in our own grief and loss:

“As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

The beauty of walking with the Lord is that even in our most painful moments, He is not only willing but also able to provide strength, wisdom, and wholeness as we surrender to His leading.

Even difficult seasons can hold lessons that help us grow.

Life is unpredictable, and we will experience losses of all sorts. But when we know Who is leading us—and know that He can be trusted to teach us along the way—surrender becomes a little easier.

The loss may be real.

The grief may be deep.

But there is always a “now then.”

May we learn together.