2017, expectations, grief, spiritual, suffering, trust



Yesterday, after I received communion and returned to the pew, I started praying: I trust you, but I’m still sad. Over and over I prayed: I trust you, but I’m still sad. Then I realized that’s not what I meant.

You know when people say things like, I love you, but… or Good job, but… Anything that comes before the “but” feels completely irrelevant once you hear once comes after the “but”. Saying “I trust you, but” felt the same way: “I trust you God, but not really.”

So I changed it: I trust you and I’m still sad. Both. I trust you. I’m still sad. I feel both fully. And.

I trust that my life will be full and whole. I trust that the path I’m on will lead me to love and peace and joy. I trust that goodness will follow me all the days of my life. I trust that I will be loved no matter what. I trust that I will never be alone. I trust that my life will have meaning once again. I trust that my life has purpose. I trust God.


I’m still sad. I grieve the loss of a dream. I grieve the loss of a role. I cry both at expected and unexpected times. I get angry for seemingly no reason. I can’t make it through worship without tears. I’m sad and I have a feeling part of me will always be sad about this loss. I’m sad that my future won’t be what I expected. It’s January 2, 2017 and I’m still sad.



I can trust God and be sad. I can laugh one moment and cry the next. I can be hopeful about my future and lament my future. I can exercise and honor my body and grieve what it cannot do. I can be happy and sad while holding a child’s hand. I can enjoy and mourn my freedom. I can be and feel and experience all of these things.

At times I feel contradictory in my thoughts, feelings and actions. I don’t always make sense to myself or those around me. That’s okay. Rather than stuffing or ignoring or pushing aside what I think and feel, I am embracing all of it. I am letting myself be – little judgment, lots of grace.

I trust you and I’m still sad. Both are true. Both are real.


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