The sermon this Sunday was right on time. Freedom: Grief

There are days when I feel the weight of loss, loneliness, and unmet expectations pressing down on me. I see the cheerful posts on social media, the perfect family gatherings, the gifts, and I have to remind myself: my journey looks different this year, and that’s okay.

I’ve learned that surviving a holiday in a hard season is, in itself, something to be proud of. It’s okay if my celebrations aren’t perfect. It’s okay if I don’t have all the things I once imagined I would. What matters is that I am still here. I am still breathing. I am still moving forward.

Instead of dwelling on what I don’t have, I’m choosing to focus on what I do have. I have memories that make me smile, even through tears. I have friends and family who love me in their own imperfect ways. I have little moments of peace—a cold coke zero, being in my safe place, with my weighted blanket and pillow, the laughter of someone I care about. These things, small as they may seem, are treasures.

I remind myself that it’s okay to grieve the losses and longings, but I also remind myself to make space for gratitude. Gratitude doesn’t erase pain; it coexists with it. It allows me to hold hope in one hand and my struggles in the other.

Looking ahead, I am learning to trust that the future holds possibilities I can’t yet see. The hard seasons won’t last forever. There will be joy again, new experiences to cherish, and moments of laughter I haven’t even imagined. I am choosing to step into the future with cautious hope, knowing that surviving today is a step toward brighter days.

So, this holiday, I give myself grace. I allow myself to feel, to reflect, and to be thankful for what is. And even in the midst of difficulty, I choose to believe that better days are coming. For now, surviving, appreciating what I have, and looking forward with hope—that is enough.