Grateful and Grieving:

Let me gently disagree. The Word doesn't tell us to choose between gratitude and grief. Psalm 34:18 says the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those crushed in spirit. Close. Not disappointed in them. Not distant until they cheer up. Close.

So this month, let's do something different. Not fake gratitude. Not forced joy. Real gratitude—the kind that can hold hands with sorrow and still be true.

The Myth of "Getting Over It"

After 18 years of coaching women through grief, I've learned that the hardest seasons aren't the ones with the loudest grief. They're the ones in which you feel pressured to hide it.

Thanksgiving and Christmas put grief under a spotlight. Everyone around you is counting blessings, and you're counting the chair that's empty. The invitation to "focus on the good" can feel like being asked to leave your loved one at the door.

But here's what I know from my own losses—my son William, my grandson Deshon, and my nephew Clinton—and from every woman I've walked beside: gratitude doesn't erase grief, and grief doesn't disqualify gratitude. They are not enemies. They are both forms of love.

In my "Gentle Streams of Healing" coaching work, I teach something called the dual process model. In plain language, you're allowed to move back and forth. Some moments, you'll attend to your loss and mourn. Other moments, you'll attend to living—a conversation, a project, a meal, a plan. That movement isn't denial. It's how we heal.

Gratitude in Hard Seasons—What My Journal Taught Me

One of the tools I use with women is my Grief & Gratitude Journal Page, built especially for anticipatory grief—those seasons of loving someone while knowing change may be coming.

The prayer in it sounds like this: "Help me find gratitude even in difficult seasons. Teach me to cherish each conversation, each embrace, and each precious memory being created today."

Notice what it doesn't say. It doesn't say, "Take away the sadness." It says, make me present—because gratitude in a hard season is not about what's missing. It's about what's still being given.

Here are three questions from the journal. Take them to a quiet place this week, with a pen and honesty.

1. What emotions am I carrying today? Name them—fear, sadness, anger, guilt, exhaustion. There are no right or wrong answers. An emotion that is named can be carried; an emotion that is hidden carries you.
2. What am I trying to control that belongs to God? This is the question that frees grieving women. Write down the outcome you've been gripping. Then release it, on purpose, into hands stronger than yours.
3. What moments am I grateful for right now? List three. Not the decorations or the perfect dinner. A memory. A conversation. Their favorite song. The way they said your name. Be specific. Specific gratitude is healing.

The Anticipatory Season No One Talks About

Some of you aren't grieving a death—not yet. You're loving someone through an illness or a decline, and you're already grieving.

Anticipatory grief is real grief. It shows up as fear, sadness, anger, guilt, and exhaustion—and yes, it belongs at the table this season, too. It can even deepen your appreciation for today, hard as that sounds.

If you're in that season, here is my practical encouragement: don't spend this Thanksgiving rehearsing tomorrow. Be where you are. Cherish each conversation. Make one memory. Take one photo. Say the thing you'd regret not saying.

You cannot control what's coming. You can be fully present to what's here.

A Thanksgiving Practice That Won't Betray Your Grief

Try this instead of giving in to the pressure to be "thankful enough":

• Light a candle for your loved one and speak their name out loud at the table. Love honored is love carried.
• Set one honest expectation—for how long you'll stay, what you'll skip, and what you need. A boundary is not a betrayal.
• Write one specific thank-you to a person, not a thing. Then tell them. Expressing gratitude in person does something in your own heart.
• Give yourself permission to leave early—and to be fine with that.
• Keep one healing practice through the weekend: journal, walk, pray, or call your person.

Small and honest beats big and performative. Every time.

Your Next Season Is Not Empty

Here's what I want you to take into December: your story isn't over because your heart is broken.

Psalm 34 says God is close to the brokenhearted. Not distant. Not done with you. Close. That means this season of grief is not a detour from your life—it's part of the road forward. And forward is still where you're headed.

If the holidays are ahead of you and you're exhausted just thinking about them, don't white-knuckle the season. Get a plan. Get a witness. Let's map out how you'll move through these weeks with your heart and your hope intact.

Book a free discovery call, and let's walk through it together. And if you're looking for a companion for the evenings when grief gets loud, my book When Love Remains is written exactly for this road. Order your copy at payhip.com/b/TBkuG.

You are not too broken to be blessed this season. You are loved, you are held, and you are still becoming.

Love remains. Hope remains. And by God's grace, so will you.