Life is full of endings. Some expected, some jarring—the loss of a job, a friendship, a marriage.
Even when an ending is right or full of joy—a college graduation or a child growing up—the transition that comes will still stir grief and sometimes longing.
Necessary endings, whether painful or joyful, bring big emotions, and sometimes surprising grief.
“For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to harvest.
A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a time to turn away.
A time to search and a time to quit searching.
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear and a time to mend.”
—Ecclesiastes 3:1-7a (nlt)
When we lose something we love, it holds deep sorrow.
But even in complex losses around people or places that once held significance in our lives—where we experienced both goodness and pain—grief rises. Sometimes loss frees us to remember goodness that has long been blurred by brokenness that was too much to hold. This, too, is a part of necessary endings.
Even in complex losses around people or places that once held significance in our lives—where we experienced both goodness and pain—grief rises.
Whether you find yourself walking through an expected transition or have been jarred by the loss of your church community, a loss of trust, or those you love turning away from you in a time of heartbreak—God is near.
As you grapple with what has come to you, walk gently. Let the good rise to the surface. Invite Jesus to meet you in the sadness. This journey requires gentleness, kindness, and compassion—for yourself and all the complexity it may hold.
Bless your emotions and your need to grieve and remember. Take a nap, give yourself grace, take a walk, do something that brings you joy. This is exhausting territory. Celebrate the good and grieve what has been lost. And invite the God who weeps with us to meet you where you are.
I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone. But its death will produce many new kernels—a plentiful harvest of new lives. —John 12:24 (nlt)