My Grief Today

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My Grief Today and How it has Changed

It has been 133 days, or 19 weeks, or 4 months and 11 days since we lost Hannah. My grief has been a constant, unexpected series of changes. I never know what to expect from one day to the next.

It used to comfort me to walk into Hannah’s bedroom and see all of her cowgirl boots, belt buckles, hats, and clothing scattered around the room. Seeing her Boot Barn badge, perfumes, jewelry, and makeup on her dresser would almost convince me that she was soon coming home to get ready for work.


In those first few weeks, I would sometimes spray a bit of her perfume on one of her blouses, hold it close, and try to remember her scent, attempting to imagine her here with me. Or I would look for clothing that hadn’t been washed yet, just to try to smell her scent on it again.

Today, that has changed.


I can’t even go into her room now without falling apart. We shared a closet in her room since she had moved out a few years ago and only recently moved back in with us. Many of her things, along with some of mine, are now harmoniously mingled together in the room because our tastes were so very similar.


I also have a cabinet and shelving in her room where I kept all my cowgirl boots. When she moved back in, my closet became home to some of her clothes, and the whole room is filled with her cowgirl boots as well as mine. It’s an embarrassing amount of western wear.

We loved our cowgirl boots!


We have kept the door closed since her death.

I think it’s like a candle. When you keep the lid on it, the next time you open it, the scent seems more intense. Well, now when I walk into her room, the scent of leather and the beautiful scent of Hannah hit me right in the face.

It’s overwhelming.


I have to mentally prepare myself before opening the door. Memories flood back in, and the longing to wrap my arms around her is almost unbearable. Seeing her pictures rip my heart out.


Just for clarity, we haven’t made a shrine to Hannah. I just can’t bear the thought of getting rid of her things. Maybe one day I will be able to donate some of it, box up a few special things, and put them away. But today is not that day, and I don’t anticipate it being anytime soon.


Mental Changes and Grief Brain

After we lost Hannah, a lot of people told me to expect to experience “grief brain.” I didn’t really understand at the time what that meant or what it would look like.

Today, I know it all too well.


I googled it to give you a clearer picture of the symptoms. This is an AI-generated Google overview:

Grief brain fog after losing a child is a profound neurobiological response. It stems from the brain diverting massive amounts of energy to process emotional trauma and manage the broken attachment bond. This leaves minimal cognitive capacity for daily functioning, causing severe mental fatigue, forgetfulness, and disorientation.

Common Cognitive Symptoms:

• Trouble focusing: Inability to sustain attention on conversations, reading, or work tasks.
• Memory lapses: Forgetting routine words, names, recent events, appointments, or why you entered a room.
• Executive dysfunction: Struggling or failing to make even simple, everyday decisions, such as what to wear or what to eat.
• Misplacing items: Frequently losing keys, phones, or important household objects.
• Mental sluggishness: Feeling as though your thoughts are moving through thick mud or quicksand. Finding it hard to make sentences or clearly express your thoughts.

Physical and Emotional Overlap:

• Chronic exhaustion: Deep physical and mental fatigue that sleep does not fix.
• Spaciness or unreality: Feeling detached from your body, surroundings, or current reality.
• Overwhelm: Simple noises, choices, or interactions feeling entirely too loud or heavy to bear.
• Social overwhelm: Lacking the desire or patience to meet people for lunch, visits, or other social engagements and preferring to be completely alone or alone with immediate family.

I have found my grief brain to be especially frustrating.
For instance, coming home from prison one day, I took a wrong exit on the interstate. I have no idea why. I’ve never taken that exit, and I surely had not forgotten my way home. My ministry partner was with me, and I asked her, “Why on earth did I take this exit?”
She replied, “I just thought you needed to go somewhere I didn’t know about.”

We laughed about it then, but I found it very unsettling.



I worry more now about preaching because I’m afraid my words will come out wrong. Yesterday in the prison, I was halfway through a point, and I completely forgot where I was headed. I paused and asked the men to forgive me because my “grief brain” was interfering. Fortunately, most of these men have grieved with me and prayed for me through this whole tragedy. They assured me it was okay.


Sometimes I can’t find the right word, even when it’s such a common word a kindergartner would know it. Or I find myself talking and say part of a word without finishing it, or I say the wrong word altogether.
That’s also very unsettling.


If I had not been warned about these things, and researched it a bit, I would have most definitely believed I was losing my mind. So, if you are struggling with any of these symptoms, please know you are not alone.
Grief brain truly is a thing!


A good change in my grief journey has been the increased urgency to minister again.


My hubby was the one who encouraged me to start ministering again. I didn’t think I could do it ever again, 3 months ago. But I’m grateful for a husband who, I sometimes think, knows me better than I do.


He said, “Hon, if you sit here at home, you will dwell on the trauma, the loss, and all the memories and become more depressed. God called you to minister, and that is what you love. You are most happy when you are out preaching the gospel and seeing lives changed by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
And he was right.


I’ll admit, those first few services were really hard, even attending our own home church. No one talks about how hard it is to step back into church when you are grieving and doing everything in your power to hide your anger at God.

But He sees it, and He’s not offended by our questioning. He understands it, completely. But we can't stay there.


So, the good news is that ministry has gotten easier.

Not just easier, but exciting!
I’ve had so many people tell me that the crushing pain of a devastating loss brings a greater anointing. I will say, that seems to be the case so far.


But, getting to this point wasn’t easy.


I still long to see Hannah every single day. In the beginning, I didn’t care if I lived or died because I just wanted to go to heaven and see her again. Looking back, I realize that would have been so unfair to Bryan and Haley, and I really wouldn't have wanted to leave them because I love them so much.

But my heart was torn between heaven and earth. All I could think about was running to Hannah, arms outstretched, hugging her with all my might while telling her how much I love her. 


But one day Jesus asked me if it was more important for me to see Hannah or to see Him. Ouch.


In the beginning, that was a very difficult question, and with my feelings toward God at that time, my answer would have easily been Hannah.
But as I have drawn closer to Him through the pain, and as He has quieted me with His love so many times, my answer has changed.


I definitely want to see my baby girl and hold her again--I long for that day. But first of all, I want to run to my Savior and pour out my love on Him. Without Jesus coming to earth, suffering, and dying for the sins of all of humanity, none of us would have the hope of seeing any of our loved ones again.

But Jesus made a way!


Praise


One of the other things people told me to do was praise through the pain. Admittedly, that was a very hard one!


I still loved God, but I was so angry, I wanted to withhold my worship. Not only that, but every song about the goodness and faithfulness of God cut like a rusty, serrated knife. It infuriated me. How do you sing about God’s goodness and love when He has allowed you to lose your  child?


It was an inner fight.


My first Sunday back in church hurt so badly that I didn’t think I would ever be able to attend again. In fact, it took quite some time before we tried again. Sadly, the second time was just as bad.
A couple of months passed before we could even fathom trying again.


But then, once again, another good change!


Last Sunday, I was able to attend my home church, raise my hands despite the tears, and worship God in honesty.

Ah, this must be what it means to worship in Spirit and in truth! (John 4:24) Sometimes the truth is that we are hurting, brokenhearted, and weeping uncontrollably on the inside hoping no one else can see.


But even with that truth, we simply raise our hands, focus on God, and trust that He knows what He is doing, even when we don’t see it. We also trust that He sees our feeble efforts to lift a hallelujah when the pain of our grief would have us run to the restroom and shake uncontrollably with sobs from a heart so wounded.

And if that’s what we need to do, that’s fine too.
He’ll be there to meet us!

He also recognizes when our praise is a sacrifice. And to be honest, many days it still is. But we press on and press in. When we do that, things begin to shift and peace settles in.

You see, we must remember, praise is a weapon and it breaks strongholds. And most importantly, it makes the devil mad! And when he get's mad, he retreats. That's why he tries so hard to hinder our praise and worship.

David Crowder said it best, "I Got Something Make the Devil Gonna Run!" If you haven't heard that song, look it up. I promise that's his grammar, not mine.


Next, I had to get my routine back. Instead of avoiding the Word of God, I had to get back into it again. And I had to make prayer and praying in the Holy Spirit a priority.


The Holy Spirit is my best friend and always has been.
I needed time to let Him minister to me personally.
I collected an unimaginably tall stack of devotionals. It looks like a game of Jenga using books on my living room end table. I must carefully remove the one I want to read first, or the whole tower will tumble to the floor.


I then had to allow Jesus to reset my thinking. (Philippians 4:8)
I read many devotionals and books about grief and tried to learn everything I could about it, and how to carry it. But ultimately, I had to start thinking on things that were true, pure, lovely and of good report (I know my Missionette sisters hear me) and quit dwelling on the mental images of Hannah's death.


I also had to reframe the tragedy in my mind.


Instead of looking at Hannah’s death as “The horrible thing” Satan used for my destruction, I had to look at it as “A horrible thing” Satan used to crush me that backfired on him and released a greater anointing in my life! The longer we look at our tragedy as the thing that happened, the more it remains our focus, singling us out and making us feel like we are the only ones who have experienced this. Or, even worse it becomes our giving up point.


But when we change that lens and see it as a thing that happened, it can’t take over our lives, causing us to believe we are the only ones to endure this pain. We begin to understand that this is a thing that has happened to many people, and not the thing that will destroy us.


So, for today, August 14, 2026, it is well. It isn’t great. It isn’t the best I’ve ever felt, and it never will be this side of heaven.
It is manageable.


I do believe staying busy with ministry has helped me not to focus on my pain twenty-four hours a day. And I know seeing the way the Holy Spirit is moving and ministering through me after the crushing has been thrilling. It keeps me clinging to Jesus and expecting more each time I step into the pulpit.


But having never passed this way before, I have no idea what tomorrow, next week, or next month will look like. Grief is ever-changing.
It is uncharted territory for everyone who, unfortunately, must voyage through it. But as long as Jesus is the Captain of our vessel, He will make a way. Trust Him.


In all this, don’t be discouraged if your grief is not tracking the same as someone else’s. Remember, we all grieve in our own way and in our own timing. No one can rush your heart. We all have to learn how to carry it, and every day it presents with a different-sized load. Be gentle with yourself.
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I only share my thoughts in the hope that someone else walking this path will be encouraged and know they are not alone. At four months and eleven days into my own journey, I take no claim in being anywhere close to an expert on grief. I just pray that God will give you peace and help you navigate your own tumultuos sea of sorrow.


Genesis 50:20 continues to be one of my favorite “life verses.”

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”


I will live my life to make Satan rue the day! I hope you will too.

Love and blessings!