
Sign up to save your podcasts
Or
Send a comment.
Grief changes us in profound ways, sometimes shrinking our world to the size of a bedroom. After losing my husband and spending three years mostly confined to the room we once shared in our home of 34 years, I faced a divine disruption. God began moving me—not just physically from Indiana to South Carolina, but out of emotional stagnation and into a new season of purpose.
The memories of three decades filled every corner of that house. It wasn't just walls and windows; it was the physical container of a shared life with someone I deeply loved. When he passed away, something in me settled into that space, unwilling or unable to imagine life beyond it. My world became smaller, more contained, and in many ways, safer in its predictability.
But God doesn't leave us in wilderness places forever. "Behold, I will do a new thing," He promises in Isaiah 43:19, "I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." Sometimes healing requires movement—geographical, emotional, spiritual—even when standing still feels safer. When God began stirring my heart to leave, I realized staying would mean resisting His gentle but persistent nudge toward something new.
Trust becomes our lifeline when understanding fails us. "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding," Proverbs 3:5-6 reminds us. I didn't understand why leaving was necessary. I couldn't comprehend how I would function away from the place that held so much of my history. But trust isn't about understanding—it's about following the One who holds everything, even when the path ahead seems unclear.
If you're walking through grief or major life transitions, remember that God sees you. He hasn't forgotten you, and He's calling you forward not to abandon you but to lead you into something new. He is still writing your story. Will you trust Him with the next chapter?
Support the show
My website is https://www.godslovingsacrifice.com
Send a comment.
Grief changes us in profound ways, sometimes shrinking our world to the size of a bedroom. After losing my husband and spending three years mostly confined to the room we once shared in our home of 34 years, I faced a divine disruption. God began moving me—not just physically from Indiana to South Carolina, but out of emotional stagnation and into a new season of purpose.
The memories of three decades filled every corner of that house. It wasn't just walls and windows; it was the physical container of a shared life with someone I deeply loved. When he passed away, something in me settled into that space, unwilling or unable to imagine life beyond it. My world became smaller, more contained, and in many ways, safer in its predictability.
But God doesn't leave us in wilderness places forever. "Behold, I will do a new thing," He promises in Isaiah 43:19, "I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." Sometimes healing requires movement—geographical, emotional, spiritual—even when standing still feels safer. When God began stirring my heart to leave, I realized staying would mean resisting His gentle but persistent nudge toward something new.
Trust becomes our lifeline when understanding fails us. "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding," Proverbs 3:5-6 reminds us. I didn't understand why leaving was necessary. I couldn't comprehend how I would function away from the place that held so much of my history. But trust isn't about understanding—it's about following the One who holds everything, even when the path ahead seems unclear.
If you're walking through grief or major life transitions, remember that God sees you. He hasn't forgotten you, and He's calling you forward not to abandon you but to lead you into something new. He is still writing your story. Will you trust Him with the next chapter?
Support the show
My website is https://www.godslovingsacrifice.com